We will Rise
by spectre4hire
Summary: Shepard has been brought back to life. He awakens to a galaxy to discover all his hard work has been undone. The human led Council refuse to believe the Reapers, Cerberus seems more understanding than the Alliance, and the person responsible for bringing him back to life is his former lover-Miranda Lawson. Sequel to "I will Rise."
1. Prologue

**A/N: The world of Mass Effect, its characters, and creations belong to Bioware. I'm only having some fun and taking some liberties with its characters and plot.  
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**I want to thank all of the support and encouragement that "I will Rise" received. It made the decision to write this sequel an easy one.  
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**We will Rise**

**By Spectre4hire**

**Prologue**

Beep…Beep…Beep

Miranda groaned in frustration at the incessant noise that had penetrated her peaceful slumber. She was inclined to ignore the annoying sound as she readjusted herself in her bed, turning on her back, hugging the covers to her body as she did so.

Beep…Beep…Beep

Miranda growled, but any curse that she was about to utter died on her tongue as she caught the pattern in the ring.

This was no ordinary call. This was something important.

She immediately pushed herself up, throwing the covers to her side as she blinked in the darkness of her bedroom, allowing her eyes to adjust to the absence of light.

She cursed her tired nature in not noticing how important the particle ring pattern had been. She immediately went to her Omni-Tool, the source of the noise, and quickly typed in the access code to accept the call.

As she waited for the call to be transferred through, she wiped the sleep out of her eyes.

"Miss Lawson, am I interrupting something?"

It was the voice of the Illusive Man.

"No, sir," she quickly answered, now more frustrated in herself for her delay in answering the call. She chose not to respond to what her superior was insinuating.

"Good, because I have an assignment for you-"

She could hear him exhale as he paused, knowing that he was smoking. She remained silent, waiting for him to finish.

"I've have been given some unfortunate news."

"What news?" Miranda asked, wondering what could be so important that it could not wait until the morning.

"It's about Commander Shepard."

Another pause, there was no sound of him exhaling to allow himself a smoke. This pause was deliberate. The mention of Shepard's name felt like an injection of adrenaline into Miranda, she instantly awoke, losing any thought or interest in sleep. Any tiredness that she had felt had been replaced by a jolt of energy and growing curiosity.

"He's dead," the Illusive man finished, his voice perfectly controlled as he delivered the depressing news.

"What?" Miranda all but gasped. She was too shocked at the news, to mentally scold herself for her emotional response.

She shook her head, it couldn't be true. It just couldn't, not Shepard.

The images of her and him together on the Citadel began floating to the forefront of her mind. His smile, his touch, his voice, while they shared intimate moments together, he stirred something within Miranda that she had never felt before for another person.

She then was haunted by their last encounter, remembering his confidence in assuring her that he wouldn't allow any geth to kill him. It was now a twist of the knife already embedded into her.

"It can't be," she challenged, finding her throat dry.

"This comes from top Alliance Brass, Miss Lawson," answered the Illusive man, un-phased by her disbelief. "They are trying to cover it up. Naturally, they don't want word to get out about the circumstances of his death."

"Circumstances?" she repeated, unsure why the Alliance would be fearful of alerting the populace that he was killed by geth troopers.

"Yes, it seems that he was attacked by an unidentified ship. _The Normandy_ was destroyed and there were more than twenty casualties."

Miranda couldn't breathe.

She felt numb. She could feel her chest tightening, an aching pain behind her ribs. This couldn't be real. This had to be a dream. Shepard couldn't be dead. He promised that he would come back to her. The image of them sharing their last passionate moments together alone in the elevator, which had served as a reminder of his feelings for her, were now nothing short of mocking her at the fate of the man she cared for.

_Damn you, John, _she mentally cursed, not caring how selfish or juvenile she sounded in the solitude of her room. It was in that moment; in the dark that Miranda could feel a warm tear trickle down her cheek. She instantly dabbed at the tear with her thumb, not allowing herself to break down.

She took a deep breath, controlling her emotions, and her breathing, before she allowed herself to speak again in her usual cool and controlled voice.

"What does this have to do with my assignment?"

"Everything, Miss Lawson," he answered. "Shepard is too important to be lost. The galaxy needs him if we are to stop the Reapers."

Miranda was unsure what her superior's thought process was leading to. He was speaking as if Shepard was injured or was being held hostage. He spoke as if there was hope in saving him. But there couldn't be. Shepard was dead.

The Illusive man's next words broke Miranda out of her painful reverie. "His body is missing."

"You want me to retrieve his body?"she asked, feeling another stab of pain in her chest at the thought of someone stealing Shepard's body.

She wasn't naïve or a fool. She knew something like Shepard's body would be worth a fortune to some people in the galaxy. Serving as a trophy to a man's vanity, the ultimate collection piece to the wealthy elite. It was also a piece of history, the body of the most important man in the last fifty years. To some he was the most important man in centuries.

It was a sick revelation, but Miranda was sure that there were many perverse people in the galaxy, and there were many who still held grudges against the Commander.

She knew the Batarian Hegemony would probably pay top dollar to be able to parade the body of the human who had defeated them on countless occasions through their streets.

"That is part of your assignment."

"Part?" asked a confused Miranda, unsure how the assignment couldn't be finished after retrieving the body.

"I'm sending you your assignment now, Miss Lawson. This is our top priority. We cannot lose Shepard!"

_We already lost him; _the thought brought a cold numbness to her chest. _I lost him, _she corrected herself, feeling the burning of tears swelling in her eyes at the painful reminder.

A soft beep from her Omni-Tool alerted her that her assignment had been successfully downloaded. She immediately called it up, her eyes widening when she read the opening crawl.

**Project Lazarus- The Resurrection of Commander Shepard.**

"Sir, this must be a mistake?" she asked, unsure if she could believe her eyes. It had to be a mistake, a trick played by her imagination which foolishly gripped onto the hope that he truly wasn't gone.

"There is no mistake, Miss Lawson," he answered. There was a soft click, signaling that he had hung up.

The orange glow of her Omni-Tool was the only light in the darkness of her room. She continued to stare at the assignment and what was expected of her and what she was supposed to accomplish.

It seemed like a bad joke. How could someone ask of her this? How could this be completed? She had to be dreaming. This had to be a dream, surely this couldn't be real. Shepard dying, her assignment to rebuild him, surely this was all a complex dream based off her own fears and insecurity about her relationship with Shepard which was being fed by her own subconscious.

And yet there she continued to sit in the dark, her eyes shifting to the empty space on her bed. She almost expected to see Shepard sleeping soundly beside her.

The realization hit her like a sinking stone. Not only was the man she grew to care for dead, but it was up to her to do the impossible. It fell on her to create life.

She had to bring him back to life.

* * *

><p>Miranda was going to be sick.<p>

She felt the burning taste of bile creep up her throat as she looked down at the body of Shepard. No, a body was too kind of a word to describe what she was looking at.

This was a slab of meat, muscles, and bones mixed and thrown together like putty by a poorly talented artist who had no knowledge or information on human anatomy. An attempt or depiction of what the artist believed a human body was supposed to look like.

Only the silhouette of the form resembled anything human. She immediately turned away from the gruesome sight, taking a deep breath as she tried to will the bile back down.

_This couldn't be Shepard_, she thought. She couldn't see the sinewy muscles of his chest, the strong arms, his dark hair, calloused hands, broad shoulders, or his mesmerizing blue eyes.

This was supposed to be the man she grew to care for, but all she could see was a slab of meat, which looked more appropriate at a butcher's shop.

She had assured Liara, that she could rebuild him. That she could do what had never been accomplished. That she could bring him back to life. That she could play God.

It had been a few days since she had been awakened by the Illusive man. It was a call which changed and reshaped her life. Seeing Shepard's body for the first time since she got the news from the Illusive man, just seeing the body solidified the cold realization that he was dead.

She was now on a frigate bound to the new prototype space station that the Illusive man had prepared to house the Lazarus project.

She left the cargo bay after ordering the personnel to properly store Shepard's body for the travel. She couldn't stay in the same room with his…corpse. Not now, she had too much to do.

She retreated to the sanctity of her cabin. Where data-pads and numerous files lay scattered across her desk, all of them pertaining information on either Shepard or the ambitious project she was overseeing. His medical history, a detailed account of what needed to be done, a list of items and supplies that she had requested or that had already been delivered.

As she sat down behind her chair, looking at all of the information in front of her, she took a deep breath as her mind reminded her of the gruesome state that his body was in.

She rubbed her eyes, the image of his body ingrained into her mind. She was finding it difficult not to feel the cold strumming from within as her thoughts drifted towards him and his fate.

_Focus,_ she chided herself. She realized that the only way that she could possibly succeed in this project was to distance herself from her memories of Shepard. She needed to detach her emotional interest in him, prune the memories and feelings she had for him.

She needed to be able to look at his decomposing body without pain or nausea. She needed to be professional; she needed to approach this project as if she was rebuilding a stranger, and not a lover. She needed to bury her past with him if she wanted to rebuild his future.

She realized that the task before her should have been insurmountable. She wasn't worried, she was determined. After all Miranda Lawson did enjoy a good challenge and this was something so much more than anything else that she had undertaken during her time with Cerberus.

This was personal.

She went to her terminal, wanting to record every process of this ambitious project. She clicked the record button, beginning the first entry.

"Commander Shepard has been recovered. The Lazarus Project can begin."

* * *

><p>He had awoken!<p>

What was supposed to be an achievement, something worth celebrating had become a near disaster, nearly costing them everything.

Miranda was now alone in her room, excusing herself after the ordeal. She was sitting behind her desk, preparing to send her latest report to the Illusive Man. She would make sure to highlight the numerous mistakes that Wilson had made in hopes that he would be terminated from the project.

She brought her fingers to her temple in a gentle massage pattern, hoping it would melt away the stress and frustration that was building up.

The incident was still vivid in her mind, and she was unsure if she would ever forget those precious few seconds.

Shepard had awakened prematurely!

She still couldn't believe the feat that had just been accomplished. Closing her own eyes, she could remember his blue eyes fluttering open. She noticed the fear, the pain, and the confusion shimmering beneath those blue pools.

His body thrashing on the medical table resembling a fish flailing on the ground after being taken out of water. His arms and legs were still mostly bone and muscle with little to no flesh to cover the exposed limbs. His body was attached to numerous tubes, medical devices, and other instruments, monitoring his condition and slow steady improvement.

He had reacted too strongly to the dosage. It had been one mistake which could have undone countless hours and countless credits worth of research and work.

Thankfully, Miranda Lawson was quick on her feet. She immediately corrected the dosage, even though she was practically foiled by the deadweight known as Wilson.

She had gone to comfort her lover, fearful that if he did not calm down, then instead of returning to an induced coma, he would die of exposure. Since his body was unable to support itself in its current state.

She could remember when she called out his name, at how his body momentarily froze, either in confusion or surprise, Miranda didn't know.

She could still remember the fraction of a second when their eyes met, feeling a surge of electricity go up her spine.

She had forgotten just how blue and ensnaring his eyes had been. She had felt a quick flutter of her stomach before he broke contact, closing his eyes as the medicine took effect.

She let loose the breath she had been holding in that enthralling moment.

After letting loose a verbal tirade, not holding back punches as she dug into Wilson's mistakes and carelessness which nearly doomed the project and ruined any chances of saving Shepard, she had retired to her room.

It had been a dangerous, reckless moment, as she thought about the incident. And yet she allowed herself, a small but very satisfying smile at what she had accomplished. She had taken the first steps in bringing a person back to life.

It was a historic moment. It was a miracle in modern medicine.

Shepard who had been dead for more than a year had regained consciousness, no matter how brief it had been. The impossible had been done.

When that moment of satisfaction left Miranda, she was left with only frustration and annoyance which she directed at Wilson. His carelessness had nearly undone all of the hard work that she and countless others had put into this project.

"The fool!" she hissed, before allowing her anger to slowly dissipate, reminding herself that there were proper channels to vent her anger.

She would not spare a single detail on how Wilson had nearly undone everything in her report to the Illusive man.

She allowed herself a smug smile, in the growing hope that this mistake may be the mistake that could finally allow her to fire Wilson and replace him with someone a bit more competent and trustworthy.

She couldn't stop herself from being impressed at the ability of not only Shepard awakening, but the fact that the exposure or the trauma that he awoke to hadn't killed him. That was a miracle in its own right. She was afraid that she would lose him a second time into the unknown abyss known as death.

To see him slip into death after so much time and work had been invested into bringing him back to life, she wasn't sure if such pain or disappointment could be accurately measured or expressed at the failure that would have been.

She pushed out the dreadful thoughts and what ifs from her mind, before dropping her fingers from her temple and returning them to the terminal keyboard. So that she could finish typing up her report.

They were still months away from finally being able to awake Shepard, but they were on the right path. Even after today's accident, it confirmed their progress and just how far they had come. But they weren't there yet.

She closed her eyes, reminding herself of the moment when their eyes met. "Hold on, Shepard," wanting to remember the deep color of his blue eyes.

* * *

><p>"That bastard!" cursed Miranda, crouching behind a row of storage crates as marching LOKI mechs advanced on her.<p>

In a matter of minutes all of Lazarus station was being besieged by mechs! Their own mechs!

Miranda slapped a new clip into her pistol before carefully poking her head up to see the advancing mechs, who immediately opened fire. She slid back down to avoid the barrage of bullets.

"I'm going to kill him!" she snarled, gritting her teeth, and taking a deep breath, she called on her biotics. Her body illuminating with the blue energy, she stood from her position, assaulting the two nearest mechs with a devastating biotic warp.

She continued her assault, by unloading her pistol into the last two mechs, destroying the two mechanical nuisances in seconds. When the last one fell, she holstered her pistol and let out a breath. The biotic energy that she had summoned to handle the mechs, evaporated with a soft crack.

The station had been shut down and emergency protocols had been activated. She surveyed the damage in the cargo bay, frowning when she came across a few of the Cerberus personnel who had been caught in the crossfire.

This was an inside job. Someone was deliberately trying to sabotage not only the research but their project as well as destroying all evidence. As soon as the alarms had blared, Miranda had sent a message to Jacob, one of the few Cerberus operatives she trusted. She was counting on him to wake up Shepard and to lead him to the shuttles.

It wouldn't be an easy process to wake up Shepard, and Miranda was already worried what damage it might have on him to be woken prematurely.

She was left with no alternatives. This was not how she envisioned waking up Shepard. She had carefully planned the procedure. It was to be a serene experience allowing him ample time to adjust to not only his surroundings, and the trauma of coming back to life but to the amount of time that had gone by.

She tried to push down the growing fears and risks that began surfacing to the forefront of her mind at the damage that this would do to Shepard. Her own anxiety and personal fear of the man made it a difficult task for the usual stoic and controlled Operative to perform.

She wished it could have been as easy as just shouting his name loud enough until he woke up, but it wasn't. It required steps that she could not perform at her current location; since he was still hooked up to several medical devices which were continuing to monitor his growing progress.

She trusted Jacob with the task, and knew that Shepard would need an experienced soldier to help lead him through the besieged station. All she could do was to clear the shuttle bay and wait for them.

The constant fluttering of her stomach, she attributed to the fact that she would soon come face to face with Shepard. It had been two years since his death, a painful experience for the Operative, something that alarmed the usual indifferent Miranda. She had become attached to the Alliance hero in their brief encounters together before his death.

Throughout this process, and the amount of work she had put in rebuilding him. She had to detach herself from her feeling of Shepard. She needed to take on a personal demeanor so that her emotions wouldn't cloud her judgment. Now that he has been resurrected, the walls she had put up were now threatening to crumble.

Attachment was not one of her strengths, the sense of wanting to be with another person, or the need to see someone was something Miranda had prided herself on not having. And yet all of her personal control, icy demeanor, and indifferent nature had become undone with this one remarkable man.

_Focus, _Miranda mentally chided herself, inwardly scolding for allowing herself to be momentarily distracted by her thoughts of her soon-to-be encounter with Shepard. She needed to prepare for their extraction. She went to one of the last remaining intact shuttles. She entered the cockpit, prepping the engines and priming the FTL drive.

Satisfied by the hum of the engines, she exited the shuttle and as she did she could hear familiar voices coming from the other side of the door. She recognized all three voices, relieved at realizing that Shepard and Jacob had made it safely.

"Wilson," she snarled, recognizing the third voice, she retrieved her pistol, aiming it at the door. She could feel a growing anger, burning from within, being fed on the thought of that traitorous bastard, nearly undoing all of her work, but more importantly jeopardizing the life of Shepard.

That was something that she could not allow. She cocked her pistol and was ready to finish this. Not only to finish Wilson's life but to finish what she started two years ago- the Lazarus project.

* * *

><p><em>That could have gone better, <em>Miranda thought to herself, referring to her first encounter with Shepard.

It had involved her killing Wilson in cold blood in front of Shepard and Jacob. It was definitely not the image she had thought of when she had pictured the moment in her head. To his credit, Shepard didn't seem the least bit bothered at witnessing the man's execution, instead he agreed with her, voicing his own distrust of the Cerberus engineer.

Yes, their reunion was not something out of those dramatized vids, after a reunion of the lovers there were no hugs or kisses, or proclamations of love. She was not going to leap into his arms and tell him how much she had missed him or confess her undying love to him.

She scoffed at the mere thought of that possibility occurring. She wasn't a damsel whose life had been lost without Shepard. His death had hurt her, more so then she would ever admit to another person. But she would not allow her emotions to control or drive her.

She sat alone in the cockpit of the shuttle, checking the navigation and the auto-pilot to make sure that they would have a smooth journey. She wanted to do anything that would distract herself from her fluttering stomach, and the continuing thoughts that surrounded him.

She wanted to dismiss them, to forget them, but each time she successfully pushed them down, more seemed to take their place. She would be lying to herself to say she wasn't pleased at Shepard's recovery, or even thankful that she was able to revive him in the first place.

She sighed, leaning back in her seat, bringing her fingers through her hair as she tried to think of a way out of this particular emotional mess. She needed a plan on how to address the issue, without it affecting her duty to perform this mission or assignment.

The sudden sound of laughing coming from the other side of the door momentarily broke through her musings. It shouldn't have come as a surprise for her that the two soldiers were getting along. Not only were they both former Alliance, but their ordeal in fighting through the station had no doubt forged a new bond between the two men.

_This wasn't going to be easy, _she admitted to herself, refocusing on how she should best move forward. She knew what she had to do. There would be a time for some sort of emotional reunion between them. A time to talk, to clear the air, to gauge feelings and figure out where they should go from here, but this wasn't it. She was certainly not going to discuss any part of her personal life while Jacob was with them.

She still had a job to do, a mission to accomplish. Her duty as the Project Lazarus director still wasn't over with Shepard reawakening. To her, Shepard was still a work in progress, a mission unfinished. He may have survived the ordeal on the station, but she still needed to gauge his brain function as well as his memory.

She pushed herself out of her seat, taking a deep breath, and preparing herself for her first conversation with Shepard. She slid her frosty mask on with ease, with an icy demeanor, and an indifferent tone she was ready and prepared to speak with him for the first time in two years.

* * *

><p><em>It was remarkable, <em>Miranda thought with some awe, standing on the command deck of the newly christened _Normandy SR-2. _To her this state of the art frigate was proof of not just Cerberus's dedication to Shepard, but their dedication to humanity.

This was a symbol of the true ideals of Cerberus. Not the experiments, nor the rogue cells, or the questionable members. It was this. She felt a small sense of pride swell within her chest at what Cerberus was capable of. It was not the Alliance or the Council that wanted to stop the Collectors or to resurrect Shepard, it was Cerberus.

The mention of Shepard, brought her attention to the Commander who was surveying the new galaxy map, his arms folded as he took in his new bearings with Jacob at his side.

_He too was remarkable, _she admitted, remembering their mission to the last colony that had gone silent. She had watched his every movement on Freedom's Progress like a parent watching their child take his first steps. She looked for any limps, winces, signs of fatigue or any problem breathing, but he excelled in their mission.

He easily passed the physical daunting task of combat, taking out the YMIR mech with ease. She hadn't quite believed Jacob's glowing review of him handling mechs on the station. It was not because she didn't trust Jacob, but she didn't trust Shepard being able to accomplish any such physical toll so quickly after waking up, but apparently she had been proven wrong.

His endurance and skill against the mechs had been on full display, showing his prowess as a soldier hadn't diminished.

Miranda's brief interactions with him since his recovery had been strained. She was keeping her distance from him. She needed to stay professional; she wasn't comfortable with allowing her personal life to be viewed for all _the Normandy SR-2_ crew to see.

She knew she was coming across as indifferent or cold, but appearances needed to be maintained. If the crew were to find out about her history with Shepard, there would be talk of her being assigned this prestigious position based on whom she knew and not what she did.

Every time he would turn to her or try to engage her in conversation, she didn't smile, she kept her tone civil, and her answers were short and to the point.

A growing part of her, was finding it more and more difficult to keep the façade up. She wanted to reach out for him, smile at him, to take his hands in hers, but she didn't.

The thought of allowing those emotions to show, to control her was unsettling for the stoic, and calculating Cerberus Operative. She wouldn't allow herself to fall prey to them. That was not who she was, nor who she could ever be.

It was becoming more difficult each time she had to. This new part of her, this growing part that wanted to display her emotions, would come alive and become captivated by his silent charisma and demanding presence. Shepard woke something deep within her that she found frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

And until she could sort not just her emotions out, she would continue to suppress them.

They were about to embark on a mission that needed to take priority, and she would not allow herself to become distracted or inept while she tried to wrestle with personal feelings.

She could only hope that he could understand and if he didn't then perhaps he wasn't the man, she thought he was…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The chapters will switch perspectives in the same way, "I will Rise" did, so the next chapter will be in Shepard's. **

**Next chapter will include Shepard and Miranda in how they deal with their relationship and how best to move forward. So stay tuned.**

**Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review.**

**My inbox is open if you have any questions or comments, or if you just want to vent/rant about the ME 3 ending, feel free.**

**-Spectre4hire**


	2. 1: Requiem

**A/N:I'm humbled by the tremendous feedback the prologue received. I'm thankful and appreciative for each favorite, alert, and review. **

**Thanks for reading and keep those reviews coming.  
><strong>

**We will Rise**

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter One: Requiem **

Shepard watched the newly recruited salarian scientist, Mordin Solus be led out of the briefing room by Jacob. With their departure, he was left alone with Miranda, who had been acting quite cold and aloof towards him ever since their reunion on the Lazarus station.

He hadn't been expecting some sappy or over-the-top reunion that you saw on the vids, but he was expecting something, anything, but so far he's gotten nothing. He was slightly hurt and annoyed with the behavior and was waiting to call her out on it.

In the silence that followed the salarian's departure. A cold realization came to him regarding why she was treating him in such away. She just moved on. He had been dead for two years. It was quite possible that the Cerberus operative had simply moved on to other lovers and other relationship endeavors.

Shepard wanted to push away the thought as soon as it entered his mind. He felt as if his stomach was being squeezed into a vice at the possibility. However, before his thoughts could drag him further into a relationship quagmire with Miranda, sudden movement caught his attention.

He looked up to see Miranda was approaching the door. "Miranda wait," he called after her, finding his throat dry and voice gravelly. He quickened his steps around the briefing room table in an attempt to catch up with her.

She looked over her shoulder, but she continued walking, the door slid open at her presence as she stepped outside of the briefing room.

Her cold response and attempt to depart from his company only fueled his inward speculation that whatever had occurred between them two years ago, was now over. He stubbornly shook off those thoughts and pressed forward.

"Miranda can we talk?"

"I'm sorry, Commander," she stopped, arms crossed. She looked him over with a cold indifference. "I have to forward our mission report to the Illusive man."

He frowned at her continued distant behavior coupled with her icy demeanor which was being directed at him. His patience was waning.

"It's an order Miss Lawson, before we go out to get Archangel."

He was not going to allow this behavior to go unchecked. He needed to know what was going on with her. And if he was honest with himself, he also wanted to know what was left of them.

The thought of a lover taking such a toll on his emotions was unexpected for the Butcher of Torfan.

The thought that she took comfort with other men caused a burning anger to swell in his stomach. He knew that he was being childish and unrealistic but he couldn't control himself. He was used to performing his duty without emotional or personal entanglement but was now being threatened because of this one Cerberus operative. It was an alarming discovery.

The door of the tech lab slid open, penetrating Shepard's inward musings and fears as well as interrupting the silence that had fallen on himself and Miranda.

Jacob stepped out oblivious to the growing tension he had walked into. He stepped into the corridor with a relieved look. No doubt he was thankful for finally escaping the talkative Dr. Solus who could be heard in the background talking energetically in the tech lab before the door slid closed behind Jacob.

He looked at Miranda and then to Shepard, straightening his posture and giving a crisp salute to the latter, "Commander."

"I need to get going," Miranda said, not acknowledging either Shepard's last order or Jacob's presence. She passed the former to enter the armory without giving him a second glance.

Shepard sighed, running a hand through his hair, realizing that if he was going to seek any closure or resolve in terms of his relationship with Miranda that it was going to become quite complicated.

"Don't take it personal, Commander," Jacob said, who must have sensed Shepard's disappointment in Miranda's behavior. "She's like that with everyone."

"I noticed," Shepard noted dryly, a new thought came to his attention, forming from Jacob's observation.

It went against his previous growing fear that she had moved on with her life. This new realization gravitated around the fact that she was a private person, who probably did not want the details of her past with him to be leaked to other members of Cerberus.

With this new enticing awareness, he could only hope and reason that this was why she was acting the way she did.

He felt a growing tinge of pain ripple behind his temple, he groaned at the emergence of this sudden headache. He brought a hand to the source in an effort to thwart the growing pain building up. He excused himself from Jacob's company after alerting him with the necessary upgrades he wanted Jacob to install in his pistol and rifle.

* * *

><p>Shepard was grateful for the solo elevator ride as he went up to his cabin. <em>Damn it, Shepard, <em>he cursed to himself. _Get a hold of yourself, _he further chided to himself.

_I need a stiff drink, _realizing that this was the only way he could possibly give himself a much needed break from this self inflicting mental warfare.

"Commander Shepard?"

EDI's voice punctured through Shepard's thoughts, coming back to reality, he realized that the elevator had stopped on his floor.

"Other people need the elevator, Commander."

"Sorry," Shepard said sheepishly, stepping out of the elevator with the doors closing behind him, before descending towards the lower-decks. Sensing his presence, the doors of his cabin slid open.

The spacer was still unused to the luxuries or opulence that his room provided him. He had had barracks smaller then the room he was currently standing in.

The leather couches, fish tank, display cases, the room's sheer size was simply scratching the surface of the adjustments that the solider needed to make.

EDI's avatar appeared in her usual spot in front of the sprawling fish tank. "Welcome back, Commander."

"Thanks EDI," Shepard replied, discarding his helmet on the bed. _Speaking of adjustments needing to be made, _he mused, brining his attention to the AI avatar.

He didn't have a good history with Artificial intelligence whether it was the VI on Luna, or his multiple interactions with the Geth throughout his chase of Saren. He was better with people, then machines.

"I have researched the compilation of topics that you asked for."

"I thought I could count on you," said a pleased Shepard, unbuckling the straps of his chest plate. "Start at the beginning, please."

"Very well, Shepard. There were three dozen new books written about you in your two year absence."

"That few?" Shepard joked, removing his chest plate and laying it down on the floor by his bed.

"Actually Commander, you are the most popular subject in the published press in the past two years by a large margin." corrected EDI.

"I was joking, EDI," Shepard chuckled, not expecting the honest and informed response that the AI had given him.

Shepard's curiosity in published works was not based on his vanity, but in his growing curiosity in how he was portrayed after his death. He was intent on finding out what was written about him, the good and the bad.

Was it not in man's nature to be curious with how life moved forward after one's death? How your life was reflected, defined by those you left behind. Has no one ever been guilty of imagining or dreaming of the reactions your death would stir amidst your loved ones?

It is our morbid curiosity that leads our consciousness to such grim but alluring thoughts about our mortality and the legacy we leave behind.

Shepard was no different in having these wonders. He was just put in the unique circumstances to actually be able to see it through.

"You can continue, EDI," he encouraged, slipping into a casual tee and pants once he removed the final piece of his armor.

"I have combed through every book and article and picked out the top ten according to your instructions."

"Did you upload them into my terminal?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Thanks, EDI," Shepard made his way to his desk, sliding into his chair with a content sigh. He had been standing and running around Omega for the last two hours, and was thankful for the small comfort in being able to sit down no matter how brief it would be.

"I was only following my instructions and programming, Commander," EDI replied. If Shepard didn't know better, he would have though the AI's response was deflecting the compliment, acting out of humility. He dismissed the notion knowing that AI's couldn't show emotions.

"I'll read them later," Shepard said, powering up his terminal. He was looking forward to the books and articles, expecting them to be a good read. He knew that he wouldn't have time to start on them until they left Omega. Even though he could not read them quite yet, he did have an alternative to consume some of his free time.

"Could you summarize the best three?"

"Certainly, Commander, one moment please."

While he waited, he raised his arms over his head in a much needed stretch, as he did he caught a shimmer from the corner of his eye, bringing his attention to the numerous medals he had earned on active duty.

The medals had been placed on display in a glass case beside his desk. He frowned, still wondering how Cerberus had gotten their hands on his medals. Which led him to wonder if Cerberus had retrieved his medals, what other possessions of his did they now posses? He filed away the questions in the back of his mind to ask later.

"The best book which is consistent in the subjects you highlighted is- _'Into the Lion's Den-The Battle of Elysium."_

"Clever," Shepard mused, on the author's inclusion of the nickname he received in that battle-the Lion of Elysium. "Who wrote it?"

"It was a group effort, first-hand accounts of five different witnesses."

That immediately peeked Shepard's interest. He liked the idea of using different perspectives with each one being able to add onto the story's foundation with their own unique account. He knew that battles were not cut and dry or one dimensional. The more accounts and perspectives you could add, the better you were able to put together the reality of the situation. It was a lesson he learned all those years ago back in basic when he was studying history.

"How does it depict me?"

"You are only mentioned in passing."

"Okay that's my first book," Shepard decided with a smile, now he really wanted to read this book if he was only a minor character. "Give me another one."

"_Into the Fire: The Slaughter of Torfan."_

He leaned back in his chair, unsurprised by the blunt title or the reference of his most infamous battle. He was aware that his legacy would be tied to the decisions he made in that battle. "Is it based on fact or emotions?"

"It is written by a mother and a wife who lost a son and husband respectively under your leadership."

"So it's based on emotion?" Shepard guessed, curious with whom the wife and mother were. He knew every member of his platoon by name and was aware of most of their family backgrounds. He knew it was important to understand the emotional responses to the decisions he made, he needed to know that there would be repercussions for his actions.

This did not cause him to doubt his decision on Torfan, and if he was given the option again, he would have played it out the same way. But he liked to keep himself informed. It provided him with a clear perspective and a better conscious to move forward. He wanted to know the consequences and rewards that awaited him for every decision that he made.

"What's the last one, EDI?"

"The _Requiem of Commander Shepard: Savior or Monster?" _

Shepard nodded to himself, picking up on the positive and negative implications of the title. It sounded promising.

"It is a biography that details your childhood all the way up to your actions during the Battle of the Citadel."

"Is there a bias?" asked Shepard, cautiously, he had no need or interest for a cheerleader or a vendetta.

"No, Commander, the author depicts you as a human, highlighting your flaws, and achievements," answered EDI. "The author presents only the facts of your life and allows the reader to render the verdict on your legacy."

"I like that," Shepard agreed with a nod. He was pleased with the premise, and was looking forward to reading that one too, curious with how he might render his own legacy after being presented with the facts that the author gathered throughout his life. It should make for an interesting read.

"Shall I continue, Commander?"

"Yes, please, EDI," Shepard paused, turning to the avatar

"I have uploaded the video of your memorial service," EDI informed him. "It is on your terminal and you can access it from its file."

Shepard nodded his thanks. How often had one dreamed or planned what their funeral would be while they lived? Wanting to know who would speak, what would be said, what was the theme of your life?

"I'm sure it will make for a surreal view."

"Your service was broadcasted throughout Citadel space. It was viewed on Earth and countless other human colonies with an estimated audience being over six billion."

"Wow, all this fuss for my funeral?" Shepard asked, caught off guard by how many people would tune in just to see his memorial service.

"Yes, Commander you were a symbol and a source of pride for humanity. The colony of Elysium even went as far as making your birthday a national holiday."

"That's some honor," Shepard observed, humbled by the attention his death seemed to receive throughout the galaxy. He had always thought that there were more people in the galaxy that had hated or at the very least were weary of him then who actually liked him. To know so many would tune in to watch his memorial in some sort of way of honoring his life was a humbling and touching discovery.

"Yes, it is, the Alliance posthumously promoted you in recognition to your outstanding service."

"Really?"

"Yes, Commander, you were promoted to Major."

"Major?" Shepard whistled at the two rank promotion, that he received. He was aware that it was possible for decorated veterans to receive such an honor posthumously. It was still a rare accommodation. He had never thought himself to be on the receiving end to such a promotion, knowing that his history with the Alliance was muddled in controversies stemming from Torfan.

"Huh, Major Shepard," he said the word slowly, as if he was trying out how it sounded. Upon hearing the new rank, he realized something. "I passed my father," he said with a weak chuckle.

His father, Benjamin Shepard had topped out at Staff Commander, a position he still served proudly within the Alliance. He had declined further promotion or chance to exceed his ranking, becoming comfortable with the crew and squad he served with for the last two years.

_Four years_, Shepard corrected himself not taking into account the last two years since he had been dead.

The reminder of his father jolted him into remembering that he had yet to contact his parents. He sighed, at the prospect of that uncomfortable reunion. It was not because he didn't love his parents, but his actions at Torfan had brought an incredible strain on their relationship especially between himself and his mother.

He hadn't spoken to her since the incident. He and she were both within the Alliance. His mother was not a soldier, but an officer. She never could understand the sacrifices that he needed to make on Torfan, she couldn't grasp the difficult concepts of war or battle.

She learned from a book. He learned from experience.

"EDI?" Shepard asked, while running a hand through his hair.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Could you remind me to send a letter to my father, Staff Commander Ben Shepard before we leave Omega's system?"

"Of course, Commander.

"Thanks, EDI," Shepard said relieved to put the distraction behind him at the moment, even though if he was honest with himself he was interested in his parent's reaction to his resurrection; "EDI, why do you still call me Commander if I've been promoted to the rank of Major?"

"To keep things familiar with you Commander," EDI responded after a slight pause. "Since the rank was given to you posthumously, my programming suggests that it would have been more comfortable for you if you were continued to be addressed as Commander."

"That makes some sense," Shepard admitted, after taking a minute to reflect on what the AI told him. He had been a commander in the Alliance since Torfan, and had become used to the title. It practically became a first name to him; since he was usually addressed as either Commander or Shepard.

"If you would like Commander, I can readjust my programming and call you Major Shepard?"

Shepard smiled at the AI's thoughtful suggestion, "thank you, EDI, but that won't be necessary. Let's just stick with Commander." He doubted that the Alliance would stand by his promotion now that he was alive.

"Who gave the eulogy?" Shepard asked, realizing that his attention had drifted away from his memorial after the revelation that he had been promoted by the Alliance.

"Councilor Udina."

"WHAT?" shouted Shepard, nearly falling out of his chair at the unexpected news. "THAT BASTARD!"

His breathing was coming in quick, heavy breaths. He could feel the growing anger burn within his chest. The mere thought of that pompous politician caused a snarl to escape Shepard's lips. He clenched his hands into fists before slamming them onto the desk. He was too angry, to feel any pain in his hands.

Of all the people to give his eulogy, he would have wanted his father or Captain Anderson, or Admiral Hackett or even Garrus. He knew what this decision was at once, a political ploy! How Udina oozed his way into the limelight only fueled Shepard's anger at the situation.

That slimy, bastard worming his way into Shepard's service was bad enough, but to use his memorial service as a soapbox for his own vanity brought new ire for Shepard to direct at the first human councilor.

He growled, pushing himself out of his chair, before pacing in front of his aquarium in an attempt to release the growing pent up anger from the revelation. After taking a few breaths, the anger slowly dissipated leaving him feeling only numb.

He ran a hand over his face, his fingers stopping on the scars that covered most of the left side of his face. All thoughts of Udina or his own memorial service ceased, once his finger tips brushed up against the scars he had received from the Lazarus project.

He sighed, making his way to his private bathroom, his fingers still lingering on the outline of the scars.

He turned to his reflection in his bathroom mirror, bringing his face within an inch from the glassy surface. His eyes transfixed on the orange glow that resonated from his scars.

His fingers ran over the uneven surface of his skin.

"Commander Shepard, Miranda and Dr. Chakwas informed you not to pick or scratch at your scars," EDI chirped.

"I'm not!" snarled Shepard, releasing his resentment and anger at his appearance by directing it at the AI. He dropped his hands, and leaned against the sink, his eyes never leaving his reflection.

He let out a breath, trying to push down his frustration and annoyance at his appearance which he had unfairly directed at the AI. The feelings were replaced with guilt at how he responded to EDI. He shook his head in bemusement at the situation that he was presented with- at feeling guilty with how he directed his tone at an AI.

"I'm sorry, EDI."

"That is not necessary, Commander," EDI replied, after a pause. "Should I continue with the research that I found?"

"Please," Shepard said, wanting a distraction from his appearance. He turned on the faucet, cupping his hands underneath to catch the cold water. He lowered his face, splashing the water against his skin. He was thankful for the comfort and soothing feeling that the cool water felt against his face.

"I found two possible matches to your keyword search of Lazarus + Religion."

"What are they?" Shepard asked, after finishing with the water, he turned off the faucet and grabbed a hand towel gently wiping the drops of water off of his face. He was interested in wanting to know the history behind the name and why it was chosen for the title of his project. The name was familiar, but the spacer was having difficulties in tracing it to its proper origins.

"There is the Parable of Lazarus and the rich man, which is found in the Christian Bible, in the Gospel of Luke."

"No, that's not it," Shepard frowned, knowing that the project wasn't named after this parable. "What was the other?"

"The Death of Lazarus which is also found in the Christian Bible, in the Gospel of John."

"That's it," Shepard said, exiting the bathroom, after tossing the hand towel into his laundry bin. He felt a strange sense of connection with this story, with this man. Since he and Lazarus were now the only two people in recorded human history to come back from the dead.

"What does it say?" asked a curious Shepard, taking his seat and spinning his chair so that he could face the avatar, giving it his undivided attention.

*"_When 'Jesus had' said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, 'Lazarus come out.' The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, 'unbind him and let him go_," EDI paused.

"As recorded in the Christian Bible, the Gospel of John, chapter eleven, verses 43 and 44."

Shepard allowed the words to sink in, realizing that there was little description or effort in recording this miracle. He was left unfulfilled when EDI had finished. It was too short, there had to be more! "Is there anything else?"

*"_So the chief priest made plans to put Lazarus to death as well, because on account of him many of the Jews were going away and believing in Jesus_," EDI recited. "As recorded in the Christian Bible, the Gospel of John, chapter twelve, verses, ten and eleven."

"There has to be more!" Shepard shouted in frustration. The sense of disappointment rising as his expectations had been dashed instantaneously with those two brief verses. "Surely there is an account of his life, his feelings, his adjustments!"

"Not in the Christian Bible."

He sighed, disappointed at the lack of information that he was given. He couldn't understand how the story could be so bare. How could the narrative so effortlessly and casually continue with its narration after such a pronounced miracle had occurred?

Shepard wanted answers, he wanted to know how this Lazarus adjusted to death, how he came to live with people once more. What did Lazarus witness in his death? Had Lazarus been stuck in the same dark void Shepard pictured every time he tried to force his mind to try to make sense of where his supposed soul or conscious had been in the past two years.

His project was named after this person. Shepard hadn't fully invested himself into this one man, and his story, because he knew that even with this one striking similarity between him and Lazarus that there were still many differences between the two men.

Shepard was brought back by technology, not by divine power. Jesus raised Lazarus only days after his death. It took the project two years before Shepard was brought back from the dead. It was Miranda and Cerberus, who were responsible for the medical miracle, while it was Jesus Christ, the supposed son of God who raised Lazarus from the grave.

But that had not stopped Shepard from still hoping for some sort of literary record that he could read and compare to his own experience. Something that could help him understand what Lazarus may have gone through after his resurrection. How he went on to live his life, after not only experiencing death but the supposed afterlife that went with it.

"_Not merely Lazarus's face, but his very character, it seemed, had changed; though it astonished no one and did not attract the attention it deserved."**_

Shepard's head shot up at the avatar, realizing that the AI was reciting something from a text. "What is that?"

"The story of Lazarus by Leonid N. Andreyev, it was translated by Abraham Yarmolinsky."

"Download it," Shepard demanded, needing to read this story himself after hearing the excerpt that EDI had recited.

"It is only a literary explanation; it is not based in fact or records, Shepard. It is only an author's interpretation of the events."

"I understand, download it," Shepard asked again. Believing he may have found a connection to Lazarus after all, through literary means instead of factual ones. He was still interested in reading the details of the fictional account, believing that even if fictional; a talented author could still give a good descriptive detail on feelings and emotions a man may face when brought back from the dead.

For Shepard it was better than nothing.

"It is downloaded and available on your terminal, Commander."

"Thank you, EDI," Shepard said grateful for the assistance that the AI was providing in these personal matters. The AI had excelled in its requirements and had delivered an outstanding service to Shepard, what would have taken him days, EDI had done in hours. Maybe, he could get use to being around an AI, it didn't hurt that EDI had an appealing feminine voice and helpful personality.

"You are welcome, Shepard," the avatar paused, "Logging you out, Commander."

Shepard turned to his terminal, noticing an hour had passed since he had completed Mordin's recruitment mission. He should be hearing from his Omega contact soon.

He had been hoping Miranda would have taken the hint and come to see him by now. He was frustrated that she had yet to show. He believed this was the best time for them to clear the air between them. It would be done in the privacy of his cabin.

Pushing aside his frustration, he knew that he had to be patient, but he only hoped that they could resolve this before they went out to get Archangel. He knew that there was a large amount of catch up that he had to do, and it was not just with Miranda, but Wrex, Liara, Garrus, Kaidan, and Tali too.

He was pleased when he saw Tali on Freedom's progress, and impressed by how much she had grown in the past two years. She was no longer the young quarian on her pilgrimage but a leader of her people in combat. He took pride in her growth.

His pride somewhat deflated when he remembered her response to the concept that he was working with Cerberus. He couldn't blame her for her reaction, after what they had uncovered from the Cerberus cells they had encountered during their chase of Saren.

He was not ashamed with his decision to work with Cerberus. He didn't care that they were terrorists or outlaws in Council space. All he cared about was that they believed in the Reaper threat. They were investing the resources in stopping the Collectors.

The Alliance couldn't say that. The Council couldn't say that. Only Cerberus seemed to be giving a damn about the pending Reaper invasion.

And for Shepard that was good enough for him, for now.

That didn't mean he would wear their colors, or pledge allegiance to the Illusive man. His sole duty was stopping the Collectors and he was going to use any tool or resource to stop them, and to him Cerberus was the best tool he had at the moment.

_Swoosh; _the sound of his door opening broke Shepard from his thoughts on Cerberus. _Speaking of Cerberus,_ he mused seeing the Cerberus Loyalist and his former lover, Miranda Lawson step into the room.

He stood up at her sudden appearance. He ignored the growing desire to cut the distance between them, to embrace her. He instead kept his arms at his side, schooling his expression to remain impassive.

Even in the privacy of his cabin, Miranda made no attempt to slip off her glacial demeanor. She instead, simply met his stare, with one of her own. She took a few steps into his cabin, not even asking permission or acknowledging his presence.

Shepard pushed down his growing frustration at her continued behavior. "Thank you for coming up, Miss Lawson."

She gave him a curt nod, before turning her attention to his fish tank, which was devoid of fish.

"I think we need to discuss something before we go out to get Archangel," Shepard began, keeping his tone cool, his eyes were resting on her reflection from the fish tank.

"I agree," she admitted softly, turning to face him, with a small smile.

He was caught off guard by her genuine looking smile, silently pleased with seeing the glimpse of the old Miranda Lawson that he knew before his death.

"Miranda, I-" she silenced him by putting a finger on his lips. The intimate action caused Shepard to swallow his words. He noticed the shimmer of amusement in her blue eyes, before she turned her attention to her Omni-tool. She extended her arm before making a back and forth motion while her Omni-tool gave off a low hissing sound.

Shepard confused and curious watched silently, unsure what the Omni-tool was doing or with the sound his ears were registering. He then picked up on the sound of soft clicking which seemed to be coming from different pockets of his room, sounding like the Earth bugs he saw in those scientific educational vids.

The Omni-Tool's hissing got louder, drowning out the clicking noise resonating from his cabin. The clicking noise then suddenly ceased as the Omni-tool let out one final hiss before it shut off.

She looked at her Omni-tool, and with a satisfying nod, she removed her finger from his lips. "That should give us some privacy."

"Privacy?" Shepard repeated, furrowing his brows before realizing the implication. "THEY HAVE BUGS IN MY ROOM?"

"It's a pre-caution," Miranda countered, in a soothing voice, before placing a gloved hand on his shoulder.

The combination of her voice and the contact had Shepard bite down on his angry retort. The thought of Cerberus spying on him was something he should have expected. Nonetheless he was still caught off guard by the revelation.

Noticing Miranda was watching him carefully, he buried his thoughts on the surveillance bugs, for now.

"Miranda, I didn't think you would come up," he said bluntly, unable to stop himself as he voiced his irritation at her treatment. "For someone who invested two years of their life into bringing me back, you act as if you don't want to be in the same room with me."

She bristled at his blunt words. Her stare was unyielding as she faced him. "If you're looking for an apology, you won't get one, Shepard." She walked past him, down the step and towards the L -shaped leather sofa, but she made no attempt to sit down. "I won't apologize for who I am."

"I don't want an apology," Shepard replied undisturbed by her frosty answer. He leaned against the fish tank, his eyes on her back. "But I think I deserve an explanation."

"An explanation?" she repeated, "sometimes I wanted one too. A reasonable explanation for this attachment I felt for you." She looked over her shoulder, meeting his stare with her blue eyes. "I don't do well with attachments."

"I noticed," Shepard said dryly, seeing a flicker of amusement shimmer beneath the depths of her icy blue pools.

"Ass," she said the word with no sting.

"Look Miranda, I understand if you've moved on," he said, not meeting her gaze when he brought up the possibility. He put his focus on the wall just above his bed frame. "I mean, I was dead."

"Move on?"

He knew she was looking at him, but he refused to shift his attention towards her. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the painful lump in his throat at the likelihood.

"One just can't move on after being with you, Shepard."

He hadn't been expecting a joke, and was unable to prevent the dry chuckle that escaped his serious demeanor. The corners of his lips tugged into a crooked grin. He looked to see Miranda with her own playful grin, a dark brow raised in amusement. He casually stretched in a pseudo pose. "No, I suppose you couldn't, not after sampling the best."

She playfully rolled her eyes, "I was with the Lazarus project for two years, Shepard," she reminded him. "Our station was not equipped with a singles bar."

"That's too bad," he smirked.

"Yes, it was," she agreed, taking a few steps closer to him. "Did you expect me to have joined an online dating service?"

His imagination conjured the image of the perfect Miranda Lawson filling out one of those ridiculously personal profiles, or spending her time in one of those dating chat rooms. He laughed, amused at the prospect, but her next words brought his attention back to her.

"Those two years, putting you back together were the most daunting of my life," she paused, looking to have been collecting her thoughts on the experience, before she continued. "I had to detach myself from you, bury the memories we shared, as I invested every ounce of my strength and will into rebuilding you." She whispered, her hand reaching up to him, her knuckles grazing his cheek.

The gentle contact caused him to instinctively close his eyes, relishing the feeling of her touch against him. Images of the intimate moments they shared on the Citadel came flooding back.

"Every day I was confronted with your face, your voice, your legacy."

He opened his eyes, her frosty mask having slipped off to see that the toll of his death did have a burdening impact on her life.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," she said, tapping a finger under his chin.

"You're not?" replied Shepard, realizing how dubious he sounded in his question. She took his confused expression with an alluring smile and nod.

"Your death stimulated an emotional response I didn't know I could feel for someone else," she explained, "even after our agreement on the Citadel."

"So why the attitude?"

"Appearances must be attained, Shepard," she answered, without the slightest hint of regret. "If the crew had become aware of our entangled relationship…"

"Our relationship?" Shepard smirked, pouncing on the sentiment and her choice of words.

"You know what I mean," she said sounding flustered and looking annoyed.

"I'm afraid, I don't, Miss Lawson," he replied, relishing every minute of the teasing.

"I'm referring to our past relationship," she clarified, not baiting to his taunts.

"And what about now?" he asked, bringing his own hand to her cheek, she instantly reacted to the contact, leaning into his touch. A few seconds of precious bliss passed in the silence of the two lovers before she seemed to regain her control in an attempt to keep her focus on the conversation.

"I will admit," she said breathlessly, "that our times together were well spent."

He laughed, at her choice of words, allowing his thumb to gently caress her cheek. "That we did."

"However," she said, he could see the two sides of her personality clashing for control beneath her exterior. "I think we should be prudent if we continue with any such relationship. It should be kept secret."

"Between us?" he asked, lowering his head, leaning his face closer to her.

"Yes," she answered, closing the distance between them, as their lips met in a searing kiss. He had forgotten just how sweet her lips were, as the kiss deepened, he felt a slight moan escape her lips after his hands had cupped her bottom.

The need of oxygen caused the two lovers to finally part. Shepard took a deep breath, feeling a bit light headed from their passionate kiss. He could feel a growing warmth resonating in his chest, fueled by his stimulating desires that were seeping into his consciousness.

"I forgot how good that felt," she admitted with a crooked smile.

He let loose a weak chuckle before making a vain attempt to try to exercise some self control.

"Commander Shepard?"

The sudden voice of Joker, penetrating their intimate moment instantly squashed Shepard's desires. He ran a hand through his hair, as he suppressed a groan at his pilot's timing.

"Yeah?"

"Aria's informant just contacted us. The gangs are making their move against Archangel."

"Understood," Shepard said, knowing that he was going to have to take out some of his frustration at being interrupted on some mercenaries. "I'm on my way down."

Miranda too, looked disappointed, "too bad, Shepard," she said, before placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "I was looking forward to showing you how much I missed you."

He sucked in his breath, not appreciating her playful goading. "Next time, I'll make sure to disable all communications to my cabin."

She laughed, "good, because I would hate if we were interrupted a second time." As she walked towards the doors of his cabin; Shepard noticed she was putting an extra sway in her hips as she went.

"Until next time?" he called after her.

She stopped on the threshold of his cabin's entrance, looking over her shoulder; she offered him a warm smile. "I'm looking forward to it." She gave him a wink before the doors closed behind her.

His eyes remained on the door of his cabin for a moment, before running a hand over his face to shake himself from his stupor. He silently wondered if he was going to need to take a cold shower before he left his cabin.

As he went to collect his armor, he could only think of one thing.

_Archangel better be worth the costly interruption_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:*Verses taken from the ESV Bible**

****Excerpt taken from "The story of Lazarus"-Leonid N. Andreyev, it was translated by Abraham Yarmolinsky.**


	3. 2: Truce

**A/N: Thanks to all those who have read, alerted, favored and reviewed this story. Thank you.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>We will Rise<strong>

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Two: Truce **

Garrus Vakarian was Archangel…

Miranda Lawson sat alone in her office, reflecting on the revelation of Archangel's identity and the mission that took them to the Omega Vigilante. That revelation had happened more than twelve hours ago. _The Normandy_ has since left the lawless station of Omega and the Terminus Systems and was now heading towards the Citadel.

The operation to recover and save Archangel had not gone smoothly. The turian had taken heavy fire from a Blue Suns gunship. However, not only did he survive the attack and the necessary surgery afterwards, but had all but recovered. The turian was already tinkering with _the Normandy's_ weapon systems, trying to maximize the ship's firepower.

He also always seemed to be in the company of Commander John Shepard. The two friends had practically picked up where they left off in their friendship. They were seen talking and laughing, joking and sharing stories with other fellow _Normandy_ _SR-1_ hold-overs-Dr. Chakwas and Joker.

This did not come as a surprise to Miranda. She had witnessed the unusual friendship between the human and turian two years ago at the Cerberus base. Their friendly banter had caught the Cerberus operative off guard at the time, as well as the realization that the former Alliance poster boy kept a squad of mostly alien species, including a krogan, asari, quarian, and turian.

She was impressed with his diverse crew, and his ability to integrate them with his Alliance crew. He didn't allow prejudices or past history interfere with his duty in stopping Saren. It was a feat that he accomplished admirably, stopping Saren and saving the Citadel from total Geth invasion with his controversial decision of sacrificing the Council to defeat Sovereign.

Those same skills were now needed in this mission. He was tasked to lead and recruit a new diverse squad in hopes of stopping the Collectors. It fell on Shepard's leadership and charisma to sustain morale on a mission that everyone including herself has deemed a Suicide Mission. It certainly wouldn't hurt the Commander's morale after their last recruitment mission which revealed Archangel to be Garrus. Shepard's mood had shown a vast improvement in being back in the company of his friend and confidante.

For the observant and informative Miranda Lawson it wasn't difficult for her to acknowledge that since the fallout of Vakarian's recruitment, she had yet to find a time to speak privately with Shepard. A time that would allow them to continue their intimate conversation and exploration down an unfamiliar path for both the Spectre and Operative.

Miranda Lawson prided herself on preparations whether it be on the field of battle or in the lab through experimenting. She liked to be able to know what to expect but at the same time, be prepared for the unexpected.

In the process of her most important mission, she found herself uncomfortably staring into a proverbial abyss, unfamiliar with the destination or the consequences that her actions could lead her to. It made the stoic, Cerberus Operative very unsettled. She needed to be in control, so that she could better influence or contain the events or details around her.

At the moment, Miranda Lawson did not find herself in control of either her emotions or her surroundings.

One of the first emotions she was forced to confront was the feeling of disappointment or jealousy that seeped through the crevices of the barriers she had put up around her heart and mind years ago, to protect and isolate her from those she came into contact or involvement with.

These feelings stemmed from the inability of being able to secure any alone time with Shepard since their last conversation. The fiercely independent Operative refused to acknowledge and legitimize these feelings. To her old self, these emotions were absurd, and the thoughts that tried to feed these emotions were prejudicial to her pride and her sense of duty an strict independence.

To think that she needed Shepard to function or satisfy some inner cravings was a bitter realization that she refused to accept. Further adding salt to the wounds, would be to admit a growing form of jealousy towards the turian who occupied Shepard's time was equally absurd and was quick to be dismissed.

She was aware of the deep rooted friendship and camaraderie that the two shared. She was also quick to observe the ease of the friendship, and the natural banter that flowed between the two friends. The presence of Garrus had relieved the stress and tension that Shepard had felt.

The latter was difficult to acknowledge because at times, Miranda was sure that her own presence with the Commander, only seemed to add to the growing stress and tension that he was put under.

_Enough, _she inwardly bellowed, wanting to shake herself from this self imposed stupor of exhausting and pointless argument. There was too much be done, for her to afford to allow herself this time to prattle on.

She powered up her terminal, needing a distraction and target of her growing pent up energy that was being drained from this mental quagmire. She would not allow herself to wallow in these emotions, especially with so much work that still needed to be done.

She had already sent her mission report of Archangel's recruitment towards the Illusive man. She found it very difficult to believe that her boss was unaware of Archangel's true identity. Especially since the Illusive Man was considered one of the better information brokers whose access to information could only be rivaled by the Shadow Broker.

She wasn't annoyed by the decision to keep them in the dark or the motives behind the decision. She understood the purpose behind the move. Not wanting to be drawn back into that particular line of thought, she opened up her inbox, perusing through the countless mundane messages, before stopping on her newest message which pertained to Shepard's extra-net activity under his account.

She clicked on the message, her terminal screen immediately besieged by the amount of pop ups that informed her of the total amount of activity that he had registered under his account in the last few days. It was a staggering find that caught her by surprise and led her curiosity to try to focus in on the exact information that he was looking into.

She toggled through the unnecessary reports so that she could better access the exact sites and pages that he had been visiting in the last few days.

She felt no empathy or guilt while she waited for this revealing information to load. She didn't see this as an act of invading his privacy, on the contrary to her she was helping aide in his recovery.

The Illusive Man had been quite clear in his instructions about monitoring the Commander. He wanted to make sure that Shepard's mind and body were intact after the Lazarus Project. She couldn't allow her feelings for Shepard to cloud her own duties.

She had watched his body go through the tiring ordeals of battle during the missions on Freedom's Progress and Omega. This was her chance to monitor his mind to make sure that he was beyond distractions and that his mind was recovering and functional.

_Haven't we been busy, _she mused when her terminal screen became bombarded with the sites and searches that Shepard had been busy looking through under his account.

She was quickly able to surmise that he had been spending his time looking up his own past and records, specific events including Elysium, Torfan, and the Battle of the Citadel.

His interest went further than just any one event. He highlighted or bookmarked articles, books, and stories that focused on the military and public facets of his life and legacy. The amount he had downloaded and absorbed surprised and amazed her.

She found his pursuit of knowledge admirable. She made a quick note of his attempt to pursue the information about him on a blank template. She knew that this information would be vital for her on-going efforts of evaluating and monitoring him.

'_Lazarus' _

Miranda paused at the word, which appeared after Shepard's searches of his prior battles and events. It was the highest key word that he searched. The second highest search was –

'_Lazarus + Religion'_

_Very curious, _she thought, realizing that he was trying to uncover the truth or history behind the extensive and expensive project that's sole purpose was in bringing him back to life.

However, it was the title of one of the searches that caught her interest.

_The Story of Lazarus_

Unlike the Biblical verses or references, that had come up multiple times in Shepard's search. This was the opus of a Russian writer at the turn of the twentieth century; making it a piece of literature, and not theological evidence. And yet this work of literature had ensnared Shepard's attention more so then any of the Biblical verses.

Miranda brought up the story on her terminal, wanting to know how this one particular story had captivated the galaxy's most famous human.

When the story was brought to her monitor, her eyes were immediately drawn to a certain block of text.

_**"His fingers were blue, too, and under his nails, which had grown long in the grave, the blue had turned livid. Here and there on his lips and body, the skin, blistered in the grave, had burst open and left reddish glistening cracks…"_

The descriptive words riled within Miranda's mind, instinctively bringing up brief but vivid memories of her work in the Lazarus Project.

She was confronted with his decomposing body. It was the memory of her first clear encounter with the body of her former lover.

She could still smell the pungent odor of death and decay trickling under her nose from that event. She could feel the bile burning the back of her throat. All the while her eyes were forced to roam over the distorted skeleton of Commander Shepard in front of her, the assortment of meat and muscle, of flesh and bone.

_Beep…._

She gasped, emerging out of her induced trance. She could feel the thundering beat of her heart, pummeling into her ribs. She could feel the cold shiver in her hands, causing them to shiver while they hovered over the terminal keyboard.

She instinctively shook her head in an attempt to make sure she had awakened from the stupor state that she had fallen into.

She was quick to control her breathing, which helped to settle down her heartbeat and to maintain a sense of control over the situation. She looked around her office surroundings, satisfied that she had freed herself from the paralyzing burden of reliving some of those very painful memories.

She turned off her terminal, no longer wanting to read the story or more information concerning Shepard. She had had her fill for the evening.

She pushed herself away from her desk, symbolically wanting to separate herself from the cause of her stupor. She brought one of her hands to her temple, her deft fingers applying a soothing massage in hopes of removing the tension she could feel building up.

_You're better than this; _she was quick to chastise herself. Her control over her emotions and persona had dramatically slipped from her grasp when she was confronted with the fresh reminders of Lazarus.

She usually had a strong control and grip to keep emotions in check, but the image of Shepard, and his decomposing body weakened her resolve. She had fallen prey to these emotions before, when she had had taken charge of the Lazarus Project. She had to successfully separate herself from her past with Shepard in order to successfully work on the Project.

Now that Shepard was alive, she was once again being confronted by those memories and the emotions that were coupled with the images of his decomposing body.

She couldn't allow her past with the Lazarus Project and the memories that stem from it affect her duties now or her relationship with the very man she brought back to life.

He had been dead, she rebuilt him, brought him back to life. That was the end of the story. She didn't need to be bothered by the reminder of his fallen state. It was no longer a concern.

This was the mantra she chided herself on, but Miranda Lawson knew that it would be easier said than done. That she was going to need to walk a fine line, to make sure that this didn't affect her judgment or her duties. She was-

_Beep…_

The noise brought a halt to her inward musings. She knew at once the direction of the noise, looking up to her door, knowing that someone was asking to come in.

She accessed the appropriate controls, causing the door to open with a _swoosh._

She was expecting Daniels or Donnelly, who were supposed to be giving her the reports on the T6-FBA Couplings that Shepard had picked up on Omega. The couplings were supposed to make the maintenance for the drive core far easier for the pair of Cerberus engineers.

However, it was neither Daniels nor Donnelly.

It wasn't even Shepard.

Miranda Lawson was confronted with the scarred turian, Garrus Vakarian.

He was standing on the threshold of her office. "I hope I'm not interrupting something."

"No," she said, quick to pull herself back to her desk, not wanting to show any sign of duress from her previous mental slip up. "Please come in."

The turian nodded his thanks, walking into her office with a cautious step. His small eyes were quick to scan around her office, but his eyes returned to her when he approached her desk, putting his hands behind his back.

When he approached her desk, she was quick to look down at her terminal, making sure the screen was blank. She didn't want the turian privy to what she had been reading or what she had access to. It was a force of habit for the secretive and careful Cerberus Operative.

"Sit," she offered to the nearest chair.

He took the seat after a moment's hesitation, bringing his hands to rest on his lap.

"I like what you've done with the place."

She raised a dark eyebrow in the turian's direction, confused by his remark since she was unaware of him seeing her office prior to this moment.

"I beg your pardon."

"In comparison to the last time I saw your office," he clarified, his hand gesturing towards the wall. "When it was covered in husk flesh and littered with dead bodies."

"Indeed," she remarked, knowing that he was referring to their last encounter over two years ago. She made no attempt to comment or acknowledge his reply or give credence to the mission he was referring to.

"I suppose Cerberus cleans up nicely," he leaned back in his seat. "I guess the pay must be quite good for xenophobic terrorists, if you were able to build this fancy remodeled Alliance-Turian Hierarchy frigate."

"I'm not xenophobic," Miranda's defense slipped past her icy façade. It was the one attack that she did not tolerate to be applied to herself.

"Oh?" the turian replied. "I suppose most of your members missed that memo, or just chose to ignore it."

She would not rise to his bait. She knew there were better ways to fight ignorance then by pointless arguments that relied on emotional fervor or passionate defense and not on logic. She had a better option to rely on, to curb and hopefully silent the turian's anti-Cerberus rant.

She would rely on facts.

It was the only way to silence the dissenters like him, it was even easier when she could offer personal proof, something she was able to do in this case.

And she knew just what would work. She remembered the details on Archangel's dossier, because the information relayed to the Illusive man about the Omega Vigilante had been gathered by a handful of under-cover Cerberus agents who were stationed throughout the lawless station known as Omega.

"Do you know how we came by your dossier?" she asked. She knew the sudden change of topic had caught him off-guard, his mandibles twitched in surprise, and his small blue eyes remained on hers but he made no attempt to answer.

"We've been aware of your activity for the past fourteen months," she continued, knowing that he was listening intently, she continued. "We began aiding you and supporting your activity only in the last year."

He was openly glaring at her, not bothering to hide his suspicion or annoyance at her bold claim. She knew he was taking that brazen admission personally, knowing that it struck close to home for the proud turian.

"You recall the raid, you and your friends made on that Blue Suns weapon shipment, two months ago?"

"You're well informed," he said, with a shrug. "That doesn't surprise me."

She had to give the turian his due. He was very good at controlling his emotions and shielding what she knew to be his own curiosity at her precise information on his dealings.

"Oh that we are," she agreed, her tone gaining confidence when she added. "We gave you the information on that Blue Suns weapon shipment."

"That's impossible," he said with a shake of his head, his annoyance in what he believed to be a lie evident in his tone. "That intelligence came from a turian named-"

"Dorik Trevlen," she finished for him, suppressing a smile at the disbelief in the turian's expression. His jaw opened and closed but no words came out, while his mandibles continued to twitch.

"He's a Cerberus informant," Miranda explained. "The balance of power in Omega is very important to us. We make sure to have eyes and ears on all three gangs."

Miranda seeing her opening to further exploit the situation, she pounced on the turian who was struck silent by her earlier revelation.

"Or the sabotage code on those Eclipse mechs that you and your friends hacked into four months ago?" Miranda continued to recite down the list of known Cerberus aid that she had read from the Archangel Dossier. "What about the attack on the Eclipse red sand shipment? Busting up the Blood Pack slaving operation?"

She knew she had gotten her point successfully across, by the turian's silence. She knew that he was calculating and replaying those missions in his head, in an effort to try to poke holes in her theory. But in the growing silence, she knew that he came to the same conclusion she already had.

He wasn't going to find any, because she wasn't lying.

That would lead to only one possible scenario and that was a startling revelation for the turian to make. That he had been unknowingly working with Cerberus for the betterment of Omega.

"Perhaps next time you wish to criticize, you should rely on facts, and not emotions," she finished, taking a small amount of pride and pleasure in how she was able to silence him so effectively.

"A few good deeds, doesn't make up for a life time of wrong."

She expected this tactic. She was aware that he was trying to ignore the issue of the help they provided him, by reminding her of a few unethical experiments. She refused to acknowledge these tactics. She didn't want to be dragged any further into this pointless argument. She had better things to do.

"If you wanted to exchange insults," she drawled, "I'm afraid I don't have the time." She gestured to her terminal, hoping he would get the message and allow her to work in peace.

He sighed, but made no attempt to get up. He brought one of his talons under his chin, delicately scratching at the skin before speaking.

If she didn't know better she was sure she saw a look of regret flash within the blue eyes of the turian, but she couldn't be sure. She wasn't skilled enough to properly and consistently read the body language of turians.

"No, that's not what I wanted to accomplish."

Her speculation of the turian's regret was strengthened by his repentant tone. "Then what did you wish to discuss?"

"I've been talking to Shepard," he began, pausing as if expecting her to speak, but she didn't. She trusted Shepard in not talking about their intimacy, and she would make no attempt to spill the secret either.

Realizing that she wasn't going to speak, he continued. "He brought me up to date with this mission against the Collectors."

"That is to be expected," she observed, still not sure what had led him to her office.

"I thought that it might be imperative if we talked before we went out in the field."

"Talk?" Miranda repeated, trying to gauge the turian's emphasis behind the word.

"Yeah, you know," he paused, fumbling for a clearer explanation. "I think you humans call it- 'clearing the air?"

She nodded, signaling to him that he had used the proper human saying.

"Since the last time we worked together, Shepard and I were cleaning up your mess."

"I see," she said, annoyance seeping into her tone at his continuous mention of that incident on Amaranthine.

"But no matter what your organization is guilty of, the Collectors need to be our primary focus," he finished his explanation, looking and sounding satisfied with the words he chose and the message that he was trying to get across to her.

"Agreed," she said, admiring the turian's will and conscience in wanting to talk, but also seeing it as foolhardy and unnecessary.

She had prepared herself in the possibility of coming across plenty of Anti-Cerberus recruits throughout this mission, and was professional enough to know that her duties and the mission's success were her top priority.

She was hopeful now that this conversation or truce was behind them, that he would leave and allow her to get back to work before _the Normandy_ docked on the Citadel.

"Good," he said, looking pleased, judging by his expression, he had been expecting a more difficult conversation or maybe a confrontation.

"If there isn't anything else?" she asked, hinting for him to leave.

"There is one more thing," he said, apparently oblivious of her hints and cues for him to depart.

Miranda had to muster her self-control to make sure her annoyance didn't seep into her tone when she asked, "What's that?"

"How did you do it?"

She met his gaze, knowing at once what he was referring to. She recognized the genuine curiosity that laced his question, and mirrored his blue eyes. She understood and expected these sorts of questions especially from those close to Shepard who believed or had seen their Commander die in front of them in that surprise attack, two years ago.

"How did you bring him back to life?" He clarified, wrongly taking her meditative silence in believing that she hadn't understood his question.

Miranda opened her mouth to briefly explain the parameters of the Lazarus Project, hoping the answer would suffice and finally grant her some solitude so that she could work in peace. But a new idea came to her mind, and it was too tempting to resist.

"How do you know it's really him?" she challenged. "He could be a clone or artificial intelligence programmed to believe he's the real Shepard."

It was an absurd question for her to ask, because she had overseen the Lazarus Project personally, but she was aware of the rumors that were already beginning to circulate amidst the Council and the Alliance which was being fueled by media speculation and countless other controversial theories.

She saw this as a good challenge for the turian. She was aware of the friendship and close trust that the turian had for Shepard, and what better way to prove then to gage his thoughts on these speculative theories and seeing if he gave them any validity. Could this turian tell the difference between a real Shepard and a supposed 'clone?'

It was too good of an opportunity for the Cerberus Operative to pass up.

"I know better," he scoffed, sounding insulted at the prospect that he could so easily be duped by a doppelganger. "I know him better."

"Shepard?"

"Yeah, I know it's the real him," he explained, one of his talons rhythmically tapping against his armor chest plate.

"Oh?" she asked, unable to hide her curiosity in his confident reply. "How's that?"

"When you work in C-Sec long enough you pick up on things," he answered. "Habits that couldn't be duplicated, because they don't follow a formula, it's in his very nature."

Now she was very curious in the turian's insight and explanation. "And what habits does Shepard have?"

"It's the little things, the ones you wouldn't pick up on unless you're looking for them."

"And you looked for them?"

"That's in my nature," he said. "I have to be cautious especially when Cerberus is involved."

"So what are these habits?" she asked again.

He opened his mouth to answer, but another voice punctured through Miranda's office, interrupting their private conversation.

"Miss Lawson, Commander Shepard has requested your presence in the Communication room."

Miranda turned to the AI avatar, slightly annoyed at their interruption.

"Understood, I'm on my way up."

"He has also requested your presence as well, Garrus."

"Oh?" he replied, sounding a bit surprised at either being included or by the fact the AI knew he was there. "Okay, I'm on my way up too."

"Very well, I will inform the Commander," EDI's avatar disappeared when she finished speaking.

Garrus was quick to stand up, turning towards her. "I'm ugh… Glad we had this talk, and we were able to come to this…"

"Truce?"

He nodded, approving the choice of word, "Yeah, this truce."

She tilted her head in acknowledgment, watching the turian leave. She was disappointed and annoyed at the AI's interruption, she wanted to know these so called traits of Shepard that the turian was able to observe and pick up on. She supposed she had to wait to get her answers from him at another time.

She pushed herself away from her desk, to stand up, wondering why Shepard wanted to see her and Garrus; when they were still hours away from reaching the Citadel.

There was only one way to find out…

* * *

><p>Miranda Lawson stepped into the communication room, to see that there was only one other occupant-Commander John Shepard. She was a bit surprised to have reached the room before Garrus, since the turian had left her office before she could.<p>

The first human Spectre had his back to the door, his attention on a virtual wall of text that was being projected over the large table that divided the communication room.

He had one hand holding his chin, allowing his fingers access to gently scratch his growing dark stubble which covered his chin and was beginning to spread to his cheeks. His other arm was hung loose at his side, looking closer she could see his hand was loosely gripping a data-pad.

In her silent strides into the room, she was confronted with the realization that this was the first time the two were together in the same room since before Archangel's recruitment. It was in that intimate moment together that they agreed to work on their growing relationship.

"Miss Lawson," Shepard greeted, his attention remained on the scrolling screen of text. His tone and stance remained professional.

"I imagine this is important, Commander?" she asked, retaining the professional atmosphere in the room even though they were alone.

He looked away from the terminal, and meeting her with those intense blue eyes, his lips crooked into a smile. "I wouldn't dare waste your time, Miss Lawson."

She walked along the other side of the table, allowing it to serve as a barrier between herself and Shepard.

"Let's hope not, especially if we're supposed to pick up where we left off."

_Where had that come from?_ She silently asked herself, surprised by her own boldness and playfulness in hinting at their earlier engagement. She could tell at once from Shepard's expression that she wasn't the only one surprised by her wording.

He raised a dark brow at her open remark, clearly caught off guard with the reference of their intimate moment in his quarters. He was surprised but not disappointed by it, if his growing boyish smile was anything to go by.

"I don't recall it being a waste at the Citadel."

She rewarded his reminder with a brief, but sincere smile, having to agree with his assessment, that their time together on the Citadel had never been a waste. Those scattered, but precious times together had been a catalyst for Miranda Lawson in confronting her growing feelings for the man she now stood in front of- alone.

She opened her mouth to retort but whether it would be playful or professional; it wouldn't be known, when the doors of the room opened to reveal Garrus Vakarian.

"Sorry, I'm late, I was-"

"Let me guess," Shepard turned to his turian friend. "You were calibrating?"

"No," Garrus answered, stepping into the room and approaching Shepard.

"How do you humans put it, I was ugh…'Using the facilities."

Shepard held up his hand which was holding the data-pad, clearing telling his friend that he didn't need to go any further with an explanation. The Commander was unable to fight off an amused smile at his friend's wording. When his attention returned to the wall of text on the terminal display, his face instantly sobered.

The hand that had been scratching his stubble dropped, and his fingers now gripped to the edge of the table, while his other hand remained clutching the data-pad.

"We've had a change of plans."

Garrus, who was now standing beside Shepard, had his eyes on the terminal display. "I take it; we're no longer headed towards the Citadel?"

Shepard answered his friend's question with a shake of his head. "We're headed to Sanctum, in the Decoris system."

Miranda was familiar with the planet. She was aware that Cerberus had some investments and other financial commitments to the planet's economy and mining infrastructure.

"Did this come from Cerberus Command?" she asked.

She had come across several brief requests sent by Cerberus Command to Shepard's terminal, hoping that the Commander could get to the requests if his schedule permitted.

"I've just received a new dossier," he answered, raising his hand which was holding the data-pad, and gesturing to the terminal display that Miranda noticed he had been reading when she arrived in the room.

"A new dossier?" repeated Miranda, confused and curious by his sudden revelation. She was more than confident in believing that if they had been given any new dossiers that the Illusive man would have informed her or briefed her of the possibility before Shepard was told of their existence.

"Yes," answered Shepard, placing the data-pad on the table, "EDI?"

The AI's avatar appeared on cue, "I have the information you requested, Commander."

The wall of text from the terminal display was replaced by a single picture.

For a moment, Miranda thought this was a joke, looking up at the image of an armored batarian. Especially when she noticed the distinct symbol and colors of the Blue Suns on the batarian's armor.

"His dossier was marked urgent," Shepard stated, "Which leads me to believe that recruiting him will probably be dangerous and problematic."

"When are our missions ever easy?" Garrus asked, bringing a hand to his own scarred face, while a single talon dragged across the uneven surface of his skin.

Shepard nodded, signaling his agreement with his friend's remark.

Miranda too, had to agree with the turian's observation, even though she was not privy to their experiences from their mission regarding chasing Saren. The few missions that they had undertaken so far had been anything but easy.

In recruiting the brilliant and talkative salarian scientist, all they had to do was wade through a quarantined plague zone while sifting through territorial gang warfare between the Blue Suns and the Blood Pack. Not to mention distributing a cure of the plague while fighting off more vorcha then Miranda wanted to count.

In recruiting, the vigilante known as Archangel who now stood before them as Garrus, all they had to do was take on the Blue Suns, Eclipse, and Blood Pack.

"His name is Drek Vharad."

Shepard's words shook Miranda from her musings on their past missions, bringing her attention back to the pictured batarian and the mission that they were about to undertake.

It seemed she hadn't been the only one to notice the batarian's armor coloring.

"Is he with the Blue Suns?"

"Yes, he serves as one of their legionnaires. He is supposed to be one of their best when it comes to Tech warfare. " Shepard answered, lowering his head towards the data-pad on the table, allowing him to read the text on the pad.

"According to his dossier, he has been an informant for Cerberus on Blue Suns activity for the last two years."

Miranda knew of the many informants Cerberus had at their disposal, but she hadn't been aware of any of them being batarian. The history between humanity and batarian was mired in conflict both political and military. That made it difficult for an alliance to be made between the human organization and a species which held a serious and dangerous grudge against humanity.

"Wow, a batarian working for Cerberus," Garrus remarked, with bemusement. "And here I thought I'd seen everything."

"Except that Gun-ship," Shepard quipped, his eyes still on the data-pad, but Miranda was sure she saw the corners of his lips tug upwards.

"Hah-hah," Garrus said, dragging his talon across his scarred face. "Who said I didn't see the ship? Maybe I thought I'd even the playing field for you, Shepard."

Shepard laughed, before rebutting. "Well, next time we're on the Citadel remind me to buy you a nice new jar of some of that ugly looking face paint you insist on wearing."

Miranda resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she watched the two return jests back and forth. She wouldn't admit she was amused by the banter between the turian and human, but she would admit that the current conversation was leading them nowhere.

She cleared her throat, cutting through their conversation, while sending a subtle message of making her presence known and remembered. She hoped to reel in the two supposed professionals, and bringing their focus back on the mission at-hand.

Shepard received her message loud and clear, his attention returning to the data-pad while he spoke.

"Yes, it is an odd alliance, if the history of our two people is anything to go by." He then looked up from the data-pad, and brought his gaze at the picture of the batarian from the terminal display. "However, why he's with Cerberus is not our concern."

Garrus instinctively straightened up his posture, "Understood, Shepard."

Pleased that the two had returned to the more serious and important topic, Miranda posed her own theory of why they were needed to pull the batarian from his under-cover position.

"Did the Blue Suns find him out?"

"Unknown, it wasn't put in the dossier." Shepard answered, his tone signaling his annoyance at being left in the dark with such a vital piece of information.

"Perhaps his skills in tech warfare make him a more valuable ally and a squad member for our suicide run then his Blue Suns undercover work?"

"That's possible," Miranda saw some truth in Shepard's guess, relating to her own past with Cerberus. She and Jacob's presence on this ship was testimony to Shepard's theory of the importance that Cerberus was putting on this mission in stopping the Collectors.

"I doubt the Blue Suns will just let us walk into their base and relieve them of him," Garrus glibly observed.

"Only if they've changed their protocol during my two year absence," Shepard deadpanned

"What intel do we have on the Blue Suns base?" Miranda asked, not wanting this conversation to derail down another road of pointless joking.

"According to the Cerberus intelligence, it's a small manned base that the Blue Suns use to produce false distress signals to lure merchant freighters with the intent of raiding and capturing these vessels."

"It looks like they're branching out from weapon smuggling and slave trafficking," Garrus dryly noted. "Good for them."

"Our top priority is recovering the batarian," Shepard reminded them, "shutting down these signals will be a secondary objective and only after we've secured Drek."

"Understood, Commander," Miranda said crisply.

"Just give the word, Shepard," Garrus added.

"We should be arriving to the system momentarily," Shepard looked from Garrus and then to Miranda, who made a point to meet his stern gaze with her own. "Since you two will be with me, can I count on you to behave and work together?"

She understood the Commander's concerns and if their roles had been reversed, she too would have had some lingering doubts about herself working with Garrus. However, it was Garrus who put the Commander's doubts to rest.

"Don't worry, Shepard," Garrus injected, gesturing to her when he added. "We've already cleared the air."

It was clear that a conversation between herself and Garrus caught Shepard by surprise, as the Commander turned from Miranda and then to Garrus. She recognized the sincere doubt that lingered behind his blue eyes showing that he didn't know what to make of this revelation.

"You two cleared the air?"

"Yes, Mister Vakarian is right," Miranda answered confidently.

"Mister Vakarian?" repeated an amused Garrus at her choice of word. "Huh, I don't think I've ever been called that before."

"We have come to a truce," Miranda pushed on, ignoring the turian's musing. "We will not allow the past to interfere with our objectives in stopping the Collectors."

"A truce?" repeated Shepard, looking to be mulling over the combination of her choice of word and the fact that she and Garrus had already met and discussed this very concern without his knowledge.

He looked them over briefly before finally giving the two, an approving nod, before adding. "Good, I'm glad to hear it, because I'm going to need everybody focused and willing to give their best, we can't afford distractions or doubts. This mission is too important."

He stepped away from the table, and as he did, the light of the room spotlighted his face, causing Miranda to be drawn to his glowing facial scars that went up from his neck, chin, and covered most of his left cheek.

The soft glow of the scars, led her thoughts right back to the particular verse she had read from that Lazarus story she had found in Shepard's files.

_**"The skin, blistered in the grave, had burst open and left reddish glistening cracks…"_

She forced herself to quell the thoughts and the verse itself, not wanting to be distracted and needing to stay focused. Nor did she want to be caught staring, she quickly looked away and as she did, she momentarily met Shepard's intense blue eye stare. The look in his eyes caused Miranda to wonder had he caught her staring at his scars…

He broke the eye contact, his tone taking on a stern note when he gave the two their orders."I need you two to report to the shuttle in five minutes, we have a batarian to rescue."

* * *

><p>"Bag 'em, and tag 'em!" Shepard shouted.<p>

Miranda watched Shepard's impressive display of rifle prowess as he took out the last two Blue Suns guards. It was his success in finishing the firefight that had prompted him to shout the unusual catch phrase.

"Hey!" Garrus stood up from behind the row of crates a few yards back from Miranda's position. He had taken shelter so that he could rely on his sniper rifle. The turian was cradling said rifle, while he approached Shepard, adding a feigning huff to his protest when he added.

"That's my line, Shepard."

Miranda too, stood from her crouching position watching with bemusement, the continuing interaction of the turian and human commander who led the way to the entrance of the Blue Suns base.

Shepard offered his friend a shrug before replying, "You haven't been using it."

Garrus responded to the playful indifferent reply by giving a casual and feign attempt at vanity by raising his rifle. "I suppose I should be honored, you know copying the best and all."

Shepard snorted in amusement, "yeah, you're right, you're the best at cowering behind those crates while I take down the mercs."

"I don't cower," Garrus dramatically huffed. "I suppose your keen observation skills overlooked that particular pair of Blue Sun engineers that I took out?" Garrus centered his argument by gesturing to the rifle he held, before pointing to the pair of Salarian corpses that lay a few feet from them, as proof to his claim.

Miranda silently wondered if she was working with trained soldiers or teenagers. She knew the two to be very skilled and a lethal combination, having seen their teamwork on full display seconds ago. However, their continuous need to partake in annoying jokes and pointless teasing was a sharp contrast and annoyance for the professional Cerberus Operative, who didn't like to dally or waste her time.

"I thought this was supposed to be a barely manned base, Shepard," Miranda remarked sardonically, not needing to draw attention to the handful of shuttles that were parked in front of the base, nor the dozens of mercenary bodies strewn about the ground who had tried unsuccessfully to ambush them upon landing.

Her comment had caused the two to stop in their banter, both turning to face her, but it was Shepard who spoke.

"Perhaps the Blue Suns did become aware of their little Cerberus informant."

"That might mean they killed him," Miranda pointed out after seeing how casual Shepard was in the possibility that their trip had been an utter waste of their time.

Garrus shook his head, "no, they would want him alive for collateral."

"Collateral?" Miranda repeated.

"Yeah," Shepard agreed. "Collateral for when we came to get him."

Miranda had to admit that their point of observation made sense. "You mean a bargaining chip for their own lives?"

"Or a means to exploit Cerberus and earn some extra credits," Garrus added.

"Too bad, we don't negotiate," Shepard said, cradling his auto-rifle, while he made his way to the entrance.

Garrus who was following the Commander's footsteps was quick to add.

"I guess they didn't get that memo."

* * *

><p><strong>**AN: Excerpt taken from "The story of Lazarus"-Leonid N. Andreyev, it was translated by Abraham Yarmolinsky.**


	4. 3: Perspective

**A/N: Thanks to all those who read and reviewed last chapter. Sorry, for the delay, I hope this larger chapter make's up for my lack of updates this Summer. **

* * *

><p><strong>We will Rise<strong>

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Three: Perspective**

On this mission to recruit this batarian Blue Suns Legionnaire, Shepard wasn't sure what to expect. His own personal dealings with batarians on Elysium and Torfan had ended in only bloodshed. He had never worked with a batarian before, and wasn't sure what to make of the possibility of this unusual alliance.

He was even more intrigued by the dossier and it mentioning that this particular batarian had actually been an informant to Cerberus. He had yet to meet a batarian who didn't hold some particular hatred or grudge against humanity. To have one who was actively working with Cerberus was something Shepard couldn't ignore and was sure that there was more that meets the eye between this alliance with Cerberus and this Blue Suns batarian.

Shepard had to put his musings on hold when the entrance doors of the Blue Suns base slowly opened. The Commander was first to investigate the room, his rifle raised and ready for the slightest bit of movement, as he cautiously stepped into the entrance room of the base, but it was for naught, finding the room surprisingly empty.

Miranda and Garrus were quick to follow the Commander after the all clear was given, joining him in the empty room. The only sign of life was the devastation left behind. Parts of the wall and ceiling had collapsed into chunks that now littered across the floor. Electrical fires had sparked to life from the overloaded terminals on the walls. These fires were hissing smoke and licking embers threatening any who came too close.

Being the seasoned solider that he was, Shepard recognized the damaged area around him as a recent sign of struggle. He noticed the bullet holes that peppered the walls, the burnt smear against the entrance door. No doubt from a powerful incinerator blast. But even amidst this struggle within this battlefield, there were no bodies.

"I got blood over here, Shepard!"

Miranda's voice broke through Shepard's reflective study of the room. He quickly came to the Cerberus Operative who was crouching beside a turned over desk, she was examining a small pool of dark blue colored blood.

"It's turian," Garrus observed, standing over them. Shepard noticed, Garrus' grip on his assault rifle tightening.

"There's a blood trail," Miranda noted, gesturing with her free hand to a few drops of the dark bluish blood, a short distance from the puddle. The blood was smudged across the floor, leading off to the only other door in the entrance room, which should lead them deeper into the Blue Suns base.

"The person was probably dragged against their will," Garrus concluded.

"It couldn't have been Drek," Shepard pointed out, knowing that this blood was turian, and not batarian. He knew the only way they were going to find answers was to continue with their mission. His eyes were on the door, silently wondering what he and his company could be expecting beyond this room, but when he opened his mouth to speak, the door that he was staring at, suddenly opened.

To reveal a single, bloodied, and beaten turian who was dressed in the Blue Suns armor. Shepard and the others were quick to raise their rifles, and prepare to open fire on the supposed threat, but they never got a chance to.

The turian hadn't taken two steps into the room, before he shouted in pain, his body stumbling into the room, before sprawling across the floor, sliding in his own blood, coming to rest on his side. The back of his armor was smoldering, revealing the grouping of bullets that had penetrated through the turian's kinetic barriers and armor.

"Shit," Shepard cursed, finding cover along the wall that was beside the door that the turian had just run out of. Garrus and Miranda took shelter behind the tossed desk. However, once the turian hit the ground, there had been no other shots fired, nor could Shepard hear any advancing footsteps from those who had gunned down the turian.

"Nobody's in the corridor," Garrus pointed out, using the scope of his sniper rifle to scout the room beyond the one they were standing in.

That was good enough for Shepard. Peeling away from the wall with his assault rifle in hand; he looked out into the corridor to see a pair of doors at the other end. "Come on we need to move."

"What's going on here?" murmured Miranda.

"It seems we're about to find out," answered Shepard, entering the white paneled, narrow corridor.

"Ahh, investigating creepy mercenary bases," Garrus mused. "This is definitely like old times, Shepard."

"Yes, this does sound awfully familiar," agreed Shepard, who couldn't help but smile at his friend's observation. Remembering him and his squad had investigated dozens of these sorts of mysterious and dangerous bases during their fight against Saren.

"Were you two this obnoxious and loud during those missions too?" Miranda asked, cutting into the friendly chatter between Shepard and Garrus.

Shepard smirked at the traits Miranda used to describe himself and Garrus. He knew her well enough not to take her words too personal. He hadn't sensed any hostility in her remarks, and if he didn't know better he was sure that her words were used more as a joking jab then insult.

"I like to think I wasn't that obnoxious back then," replied Garrus, feigning bemusement.

"That's because you had nothing to be obnoxious about, Garrus" corrected Shepard. "Unless the contest was who could file the most C-Sec forms in under an hour."

"Hah-hah," Garrus called from behind Shepard. "By the way I own that record… its two forms in one hour!"

"You gotta love bureaucracy," Shepard chuckled, at his friend's jab at the bloated and sometimes insufferable agency known as C-Sec.

"Almost as much as this current conversation," drawled Miranda.

As much as Shepard wanted to playfully reply back to Miranda's dig at him and Garrus, he didn't. He arrived outside of the doors that would lead them out of the corridor. He was careful to stop far enough away from the doors so that their motion sensors couldn't pick up on his presence.

"Be on guard," he called over his shoulder, hearing their affirmative responses, he readied his rifle and stepped forward, preparing to rush into the room and open fire at the slightest sign of an enemy, but there was no need.

The doors opened to reveal a small rectangular shaped room. The room was uneventful besides a large stack of crates stacked against one of the walls while the room's right side wall was made up of glass paneling.

Shepard cautiously stepped forward towards the glass paneling to realize that it gave him a Birdseye view of the large room below which looked like some kind of storage warehouse. The room below was large enough to hold an Alliance frigate or two. There were dozens if not hundreds of crates stacked, packed, lining, and littering the room below.

He was sure the crates below belonged to the numerous frigates and other ships that the Blue Suns had robbed by using their fake distress signal over the past few months. Catching movement, Shepard realized there was more than just crates down in the room below. A handful of Blue Suns could be seen carefully moving along the rows of crates, if Shepard had to guess they were hugging these makeshift barriers for some sort of protection. But from what, Shepard wasn't sure of.

He didn't have to wait long to uncover who the Blue Suns were seeking protection from since a group of mechs were marching in the direction of where the Blue Suns current position was.

"Aren't those Blue Suns mechs," Garrus observed, joining Shepard at the glass paneling to look down at the battle unfolding below them.

"Unless they were reprogrammed," Miranda put in.

He could hear the bitterness in her voice. He was sure that she was remembering their personal incident with re-programmed mechs. When Wilson had turned the Cerberus installed mechs against the personnel in hopes of destroying the Lazarus Project and in essence making sure they were not successful in resurrecting him. Thankfully, Wilson was stopped, and Shepard had survived the ordeal, but not Wilson, Miranda had sought to that.

"You think that's what killed our turian friend in the entrance room?" asked Garrus.

"It makes sense," Shepard agreed, watching the mechs advancing towards the Blue Suns who were trying to stave off the mech's offensive, but they didn't have the firepower to go up against the large heavy mech which was accompanying the other mechs. The handful of Blue Suns mercenaries were killed by an explosive bombardment from the heavy mech's cannon.

Shepard turned away once the last Blue Sun had been killed, his back to the paneling, knowing that the mechs couldn't see or sense his presence in their current room. Garrus and Miranda also turned away from the glass paneling, the latter walking away from the wall entirely.

"It seems our friend is handling the situation well enough," Miranda observed.

"That clever bastard," Garrus chuckled, "Fighting the Blue Suns with their own mechs."

Shepard had to agree with his two squad-mates. It seemed that this Drek was more than capable of handling a few Blue Suns, especially when he could use his Tech savvy to turn their own mechs against them. However, before they could formulate any sort of plan that involved avoiding both the mercenaries and mechs, a loud angry voice broadcasted into the room-

"Damn it, Drek!"

Shepard instinctively raised his rifle, as if expecting the man behind the voice to materialize before him with an army of goons behind him. But the voice was being broadcasted through speakers that Shepard located in the two corners of the glass paneling wall.

"You can't remain barricaded in that office! We have the area surrounded! Now surrender in the cafeteria and you might be shown some mercy."

"Well, it looks as if we have a location," Garrus said.

"And a direction," Miranda added, she was able to bring up a three dimensional layout of the Blue Suns base from her Omni-Tool.

"Well let's not keep our recruit waiting."

* * *

><p>Shepard didn't track how long it took him and his companions to reach the area surrounding the cafeteria, knowing that they did have to climb a few stairwells and avoid handfuls of both mechs and mercenaries. Since they didn't want to be tracked by either, wanting the element of surprise in dealing with the Blue Suns mercenaries and they were still unsure if Drek's hacked mechs would see Shepard and company as friends or potential foes.<p>

The two humans and turian stopped inside one of the last remaining rooms that gave them some buffer between the hostile forces they were sure to meet beyond these doors.

Miranda was quick to call up her Omni-Tool to access the lay-out of the base. "According to this map, these doors should take us down a corridor that will lead us right to the cafeteria."

"We should expect resistance," Shepard instructed his team, "From both sides."

"When have we ever had a peaceful mission, Shepard?" Garrus asked, handling his own assault rifle.

Shepard, once more had to agree with his friend's jovial observation. It seemed no matter what mission he was assigned, asked, or stumbled onto, he had never gone through any mission without at one point or another having to use his weapon. "Well, let's hope that the mechs have taken out most of the Blue Suns."

"And who will take out the mechs?"

Shepard turned to Garrus. "Weren't you just recently bragging about the new Tech commands you had installed to your Omni-Tool?"

Garrus looked down at the mention of the Omni-Tool, as it glowed a soft orange, before turning back to Shepard. "Well, I'm glad to know you still listen, Shepard."

Shepard smiled. Retrieving a grenade from his belt, he approached the door, sensing his presence it opened, catching off-guard a handful of Blue Suns mercenaries in the corridor, without further wait, Shepard tossed he grenade into the hallway. It skidded and bounced towards the unsuspecting mercenaries who had enough time to look down the hallway to see the grenade coming in their direction before it went off. The force of the explosion shook the corridor, the blossoms of flames engulfing the mercenaries, whose shouts and cries of pain were drowned out at their quick deaths.

"Scratch one," Garrus remarked, the turian entered the smoking corridor, rifle raised and ready for any approaching mercenaries from the other end. None came, knowing that time was of the essence, Shepard led the squad forward, their steps quick in not wanting to be trapped in the corridor like the mercenaries who they just killed.

"The cafeteria is just up ahead," Miranda relayed, as the trio exited the corridor without meeting further resistance from the Blue Suns.

"We got company," Garrus called, signaling with his rifle to the handful of Blue Suns mercenaries who were standing between them and the cafeteria. The turian was quick to peel away from Shepard and Miranda, taking position behind a turned over table to handle his beloved sniper rifle.

Miranda, had her pistol drawn, her body alit with her biotics as she called on a powerful warp to take down the two turian mercenaries in front. Shepard favoring his assault rifle emptied his incendiary clip into a pair of batarians, tearing through shields and armor, their smoldering bodies falling to the floor. A précised headshot from Garrus took out the remaining mercenary, whose shields didn't stand a chance.

"That was almost too easy," Garrus said, admiring his work.

"You can pat yourself on the back once we have Drek," Miranda called over her shoulder.

Shepard was pleased with the almost friendly bantering between Garrus and Miranda. He had been wary about using them together, even after they assured him of this supposed 'truce' that they had agreed to, for the sake of their mission against the Collectors. However, seeing them working together without need of cursing or staring and actually acting and speaking cordially with one another was a welcome sight for the Commander.

"We got more mercenaries incoming."

Miranda's warning brought Shepard out of his thoughts, looking up to see advancing Blue Suns beginning to flood the room from an adjoining door. Shepard found cover behind a stack of crates where he watched two mercenaries get picked apart by Miranda's impressive biotics. When the flooding mercenaries targeted Miranda from her exposed position, it was Garrus who was able to provide a round of cover fire, allowing the Operative enough time to find shelter behind a counter.

These mercenaries didn't lack confidence as they inched closer and closer towards Shepard's squad's position at the far side of the room. Their numbers gave them a key advantage by allowing them to provide heavy cover fire pinning down Shepard and company to allow their brethren to advance unopposed.

"You got any bright ideas, Shepard?" Garrus shouted, from his position a few meters away from Shepard.

"Yeah," Shepard gritted his teeth, unclipping a grenade, he risked a glance from his cover, and finding a potential target, he tossed the weapon, watching as it bounced along the floor before stopping at the feet of one of the turian Blue Suns. The mercenary had enough time to look down at what it stepped on before the grenade detonated, swallowing up the turian in an impressive fiery display while sending the handful of mercenaries around it flying backwards.

Shepard stood up, and unloaded his assault rifle with Miranda and Garrus quick to join in the assault now that they were no longer being pinned down. The trio made short work of the remaining mercenaries and when the last one fell to Shepard's rifle, he turned to his turian friend.

"Just follow my lead."

Garrus chuckled, shaking his head while he switched from his sniper rifle to his assault rifle. "Yeah, that only led me into an army of Geth."

"You survived," Shepard countered, holstering his rifle for his shotgun, expecting close range fighting once the squad arrived in the cafeteria. Not waiting for his friend's clever reply he moved forward towards the door that would lead them into the cafeteria. Sensing his presence, the doors opened to reveal a chaotic battle unfolding before him between the mechs and Blue Suns.

Even though the mechs seemed outnumbered, they were holding their own against the Blue Suns who were trying to break through the mech's ranks. He noticed that the mechs were centered at the opposite side of the cafeteria, protecting a door that Shepard was willing to bet that was where he would find Drek.

The nearest target for Shepard and company were the Blue Suns whose attention remained on the mechs, undistracted and unyielding as they tried to advance forward towards Drek's position.

Shepard was quick to take advantage of the element of surprise, lowering his shotgun; he opened fire on an unsuspecting Blue Sun who had been trying to take shelter from a mech onslaught. The round tore through the Blue Suns armor, the mercenary shouted in pain before collapsing on his stomach.

Miranda used a well placed Overload on a shielded Blue Suns legionnaire, who stumbled backwards from the surprised attack and jumping out of cover, he was quickly picked off by mechs. Garrus emptied a clip of his assault rifle into a trio of Blue Suns engineers who had been trying unsuccessfully to direct their drones against the mechs. Their light armor didn't stand a chance against Garrus' précised customary armor-piercing rounds, as the engineers slumped to the ground, their drones fizzling out of existence when the last engineer fell.

Shepard led them forward behind a row of turned over cafeteria tables, shielding them from the Blue Suns to their left and the mechs straight ahead of them. By now both sides were aware of Shepard's arrival, and the Blue Suns were more incensed by their intrusion, as several of their mercenaries peeled off their attack from the mechs to try to advance towards Shepard. The advance was slow as the mercenaries had to be patient and careful as they navigated through the cafeteria trying not to be picked off by the mechs or Shepard's own company.

"So which lethal enemy force should I be concentrating on, Shepard?" Garrus asked, crouching beside the Commander.

"Blue Suns," he answered, without hesitation, knowing that the mercenaries posed the more imminent threat to their mission.

Garrus gave him a nod, before switching back to his sniper rifle, resting it carefully in a nook on the table; he looked through the scope before opening fire on any encroaching mercenaries.

Miranda, who had taken cover on Shepard's other side, assisted in Garrus' sniper efforts by picking apart mercenaries who were trying to take shelter behind the large columns that supported the cafeteria.

Shepard, not wanting to be outdone by his two friends, took aim with his assault rifle and fired at the nearest mercenaries, pleased at the handful of mercenaries he had hit when it was time for him to empty his clip and reload.

With the combined effort of the mech's numbers and the skills of Shepard's elite company, the Blue Suns were overwhelmed and the two sides were able to make quick work of the remaining mercenaries. When the last Blue Sun fell, the mechs turned their focus on their position, but none of them made any attempt to open fire on any of them.

One of the mechs stepped forward, its unblinking red light gazing at Shepard as it spoke in its automated voice."Identify yourself."

"I'm Commander John Shepard."

The mech took a few seconds to process this information. "What is a human Spectre doing at this base?"

"I'm looking for Drek Vharad," Shepard answered, standing up from his position, he raised his hands to show that he meant no harm. He surveyed the surviving mechs, counting less than a dozen mechs including one heavy mech. All of them were gazing up at him with those unblinking red eyed gaze.

The door that the mechs had been so adamant on protecting from the Blue Suns, slid open to reveal a lone batarian dressed in Blue Suns armor stride out. The towering batarian was well armed, and as he walked deeper into the cafeteria and closer to Shepard, the mechs he passed were quick to trail behind him.

"Is that so?"

"Drek Vharad, I presume?" Shepard asked, studying the batarian, who stopped just below Shepard's position with the row of mechs standing behind him.

Drek gave a crisp nod, "I suppose I should be flattered that the Butcher of Torfan knows me by name."

"And grateful for saving your ass," Miranda glowered.

Drek looked at Miranda for barely a second before returning his four eyes to Shepard. "And who said, that I needed any help?"

Shepard crossed his arms before answering, "Cerberus."

Drek seemed to be reflecting on this information before slowly nodding. "It seems the rumors were true about your newfound allegiance, Shepard."

"That's right," Shepard agreed. "I'm building a team, and I need the best for this suicide mission and Cerberus believes that you're one such individual that I could use."

A look of amusement seemed to flitter across the batarian's features, but Shepard couldn't be too sure.

"So you're actually recruiting me?"

"Yeah," Shepard paused, looking at the mechs that the skilled batarian was controlling. It was hard to argue that this Legionnaire had the qualifications to join Shepard's team and if his AI hacking skills were any near as good as his other tech skills, then Shepard would be a fool to pass on him. "I suppose I am."

Drek chuckled, shaking his head, before offering the first human Spectre a shrug, "who am I to refuse an offer from the Butcher of Torfan?" He drew up his Omni-Tool, his fingers dancing on the interface and with a few clicks from his Omni-Tool. He looked back up to face Shepard. "I suggest we get going, this base is going to blow in ten minutes."

"Is there any particular reason why we need to blow up this base?" Miranda asked.

"Yeah," Drek answered, never taking his eyes off Shepard. "I need them to think, I'm dead."

Undeterred by the news of the base's imminent explosion, or Drek's insistence on faking his death, Shepard gestured to the door that he and the others had come through. "Then let's not waste a minute."

* * *

><p>John Shepard surveyed his newest squad member with a stoic, cool demeanor while on the inside he couldn't deny a growing interest and curiosity for the Cerberus informant known as Drek. The batarian hadn't spoken a word to any of them since they left the Blue Suns base. Now the Commander, Miranda, Garrus, and Drek stood in silence within the communication room. Garrus and Miranda standing on one side of the table while Drek stood on the other with Shepard standing in front of the door; all eyes remained on the batarian, whose four eyes were surveying the room around him, before they rested on Shepard.<p>

"This is quite some ship you have here, Shepard," Drek remarked, leaning against the wall. "I take it from the stares and the whispers that I'm the only batarian on-board?"

"That's right," Shepard nodded, "but you're not the only alien."

"I realized that," Drek gestured to Garrus, before his voice took an edge when he added. "Despite how your propaganda may depict my people, we are not so dim."

"I wasn't trying to insult you."

Drek clenched his jaw, his intimidating four eyed stare on Shepard, before nodding, his demeanor shifting away from hostility. "I reckon that there are other non-humans on-board as well?"

"Yes, we have a salarian scientist as well," Shepard revealed, relieved to move on from his previous misstep. "And I'm sure that we will be collecting a few more before this mission is done."

"You called this a suicide mission," Drek pointed out.

"That's what I was told it was."

"And you don't think it is?"

Shepard shrugged, "let's just say, I don't plan on dying."

Drek chuckled, "I like that," he then turned to Miranda and Garrus. "Do they not speak?"

Miranda frowned, but when she spoke, her tone was controlled. "I'm Miranda Lawson, the XO on this ship, and the personal liaison of the Illusive Man."

Miranda's introduction caused Drek's attention to remain on Miranda, surveying the operative closely. No doubt the Cerberus informant was interested and curious with her supposed position and close connection with the Head of Cerberus. "I'll remember that, since I have a few things I need to report to him."

"So you really are a Cerberus informant?" Garrus asked, not bothering to hide his disbelief at the possibility.

"I suppose, that's a difficult concept to accept," Drek remarked, "but, yes, I've been working for Cerberus these last two years."

"Is that why the Blue Suns were after you?" Hypothesized Shepard. "Did they realize that you had turned on them for Cerberus?"

"No, not at all," Drek answered. "They were after me, because a bounty was put on my head by the Hegemony."

"What did you do to piss off your government?"

Drek bristled at Shepard's question, a frown returning to his lips. "They're not my government."

Shepard held up his arms, detecting the hostility radiating from Drek by his previous question. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend." Realizing, that this wasn't getting off to a good start, after his first two missteps with Drek, he hoped to clarify his curiosity and his position to the batarian. "But if we're going to work together, I need to know a little bit about you."

Drek relaxed his stance before nodding, looking to have agreed with Shepard's observation. "I suppose that's only fair, after all, I know so much about you."

"My reputation always seems to precede me, when it comes to your people," Shepard noted dryly. He had yet to come across a batarian that was unaware of Shepard's actions at either Elysium or Torfan.

The corner of Drek's lips tugged upwards, looking amused at his remark. "You have no idea, Shepard."

"Why was a bounty put on your head by the Hegemony?" Miranda asked, stepping into the conversation.

"Because it had recently come to their attention that I had taken some very important and secretive files from one of their government mainframes."

"What kind of information was contained on these files?"

"Very important ones," Drek responded. "I had already been made aware of the information on these files, years ago, but your Illusive Man wanted more information. He believed it was paramount to your fight against the Collectors."

Shepard's interest peeked with each passing answer Drek gave, as well as a level of annoyance since Drek seemed to want to take his time with sharing the important information.

"It's about the Collectors?" Garrus guessed.

"Oh, no," Drek shook his head. "It's more important than mere Collectors. Tell me Shepard are you familiar with the story of the Leviathan?"

Shepard frowned at the familiarly of the name, but was unable to place the story behind it, turning to Garrus and Miranda, neither offering any answer to Drek's question.

"In 2163 a ship was found in a crater on the planet known as Jartar in the Dis System. It's origins unknown, but the salarian researchers who briefly studied the ship estimated it to be over millions of years old. Shortly, after its discovery, a batarian dreadnought visited the Dis system, and the mysterious ancient ship was never seen again…"

"A Reaper," Shepard breathed at this startling revelation. All of his warnings, all of his evidence could against the Reapers paled in comparison to this actual, vivid and hopefully undeniable proof of their existence, and all this time it was being contained by the self-inflicting isolated government known as the Batarian Hegemony. If this ship or information could be used as actual proof to his claims of Sovereign and the pending Reaper invasion, then the Council could no longer look a blind eye and would be forced to take this situation seriously.

"Wait, a second," Garrus said, his talons scratching the underneath skin of his chin. "You mean to tell me, that the Batarian government has been actively studying a real Reaper these past years?"

"Yes," Drek affirmed. "It's the top-most secret in the government's archives. Very few of its politicians are even aware of its existence."

"Then how did you become aware of it?" Miranda asked, maintaining an indifferent façade at this starling news of an existing Reaper

Shepard noticed the subtle change in the batarian's expression and demeanor at Miranda's question. His fingers gripping the edge of the table, the glowering expression, and the darkening of his eyes. Shepard was sure that the batarian was trying to pent up some simmering anger that was threatening to break through, but why Drek was so angry or bothered was another thing entirely.

"My older brother," Drek growled, his mood was deteriorating rapidly. "He was a scientist studying the Leviathan in the early stages of its discovery….He believed the technology should be shared, the Hegemony disagreed."

Shepard didn't need the batarian to say the words to understand what he was referring to. Drek's brother was killed by disagreeing with his conservative and controlling government. The Commander was met with a dilemma, he was increasingly curious about the details of the Leviathan, but he also sensed the information involving the Reaper was incredibly sensitive and emotionally entangled with Drek. He reluctantly realized that at this moment, it would not be the best course of action to press the still unknowing variable and ally known as Drek. He knew that he would have plenty of time to hopefully further discuss the Leviathan and Drek's Cerberus dealings. He just had to be patient.

"Very well," Shepard cut-in on behalf of Drek, stepping around the table to approach Drek, while the batarian was watching him warily, but Shepard stopped within arm's reach of the Blue Suns Mercenary. He held out his hand. "Welcome to the team, Drek."

Drek studied Shepard's extended hand, before his eyes returned to Shepard, who noticed the lower set of the batarian's eyes were still on his hand, but Drek slowly extended his own hand and shook the Commander. "If the Batarian Hegemony hated me before, I'm sure they'll hate me even more knowing that I'm teaming up with you."

* * *

><p>The Citadel was not at all as Shepard remembered it. The first human Spectre had already found himself lost a few times since he took to wandering along the districts alone, in the past hour. He had wanted some time to himself to prepare for his upcoming meeting with Anderson at the Presidium. However, his meeting with Anderson had been pushed back a few hours, but instead of returning to <em>The Normandy <em>to wait, Shepard had decided to explore the newly built areas of the Citadel.

A place which held so many complicated memories for the Commander. This was where the previous Citadel Council had made him the first human Spectre, this was where he fought and defeated Saren and Sovereign. However, there were no signs of the previous and desperate battle against the Geth which had killed millions, destroying countless buildings, and puncturing the myth that the Council and the Citadel were impenetrable.

In the time after beating Saren, thwarting Sovereign, and sacrificing the first Council, Commander Shepard had begun an intimate and complicated relationship with Cerberus Operative Miranda Lawson which started on this very station. Two years later, it had only become more complicated with her bringing him back to life and both of them assigned to this Suicide Mission. Even amidst the adversity stacked against them, they were both willing to try to pursue a relationship, because they both remembered their brief time spent together before his death. The unusual feelings of content, happiness, and pleasure that neither had experienced in other relationships, this had helped to drive the aloof Cerberus Operative and the Stoic Alliance Poster-Boy right into each other's arms.

Shepard had hoped that he would be able to spend some alone time with Miranda, while they were docked on the Citadel. Spending a quiet evening in one of the many opulent hotels in the Presidium District, putting the tab on Cerberus only sweetened the idea. Sadly, at the moment, Miranda was over- seeing some early upgrades onto _the Normandy._

This included a new paint job. For reasons Shepard could only guess, Cerberus had decided to plaster their symbol on every wall, door, space, and crevice on _the Normandy_ both inside and out. Seeing as they were a terrorist organization and were wanted by both the Council and the Alliance, Shepard knew that advertising Cerberus colors on his frigate would only lead to future problems. He was thankful when Miranda agreed to his request and decided to oversee the task herself, in removing the unneeded symbols of Cerberus on both the inside and outside of _The Normandy._

He was aware of the realization that by agreeing to his request, it would make it impossible for him and her to sneak away in their brief stay within the Citadel. However, he would not dwell on the inconvenience, he still had much to accomplish in his brief visit to the Citadel and could not allow himself to get distracted.

He had been annoyed when he was first told that his meeting with Anderson had been pushed back an hour. He had thought about returning to _the Normandy_ or seeking out Garrus to share a drink and a much needed conversation. His time in Omega had changed Garrus, and this betrayal from Sidonis may have permanently lost Shepard his oldest and most trusted friend…

Shepard sighed, rubbing his weary eyes while he continued his walk through the Presidium of the Citadel. He hadn't lost Garrus, nor did he tend to. He understood the conflicting whirlpool of emotions that raged within his friend, and he was not going to fault him for this anger or his need for vengeance on this Sidonis. Shepard was sure if their roles were reversed, and he was the one who was betrayed, that he too would seek out vengeance.

Shepard stopped in his stroll when he reached the railing, so that he could overlook the beauty of the Citadel Lake. He leaned on the railing, and was content in simply watching the clear water below. The peace that surrounded this place was deceptive, outside of this system; humans were disappearing in the thousands, and hundreds of thousands and soon to be millions. But around here, no one seemed to give a damn, not the Council, not the Alliance, not even the hundreds of thousands of humans who occupied this galactic capital. To them, it was nothing but an inconvenience to their perfect little lives, something to threaten and tear down this pseudo protection that they wrapped themselves in.

Sometimes, when Shepard looked back on that battle of the Citadel, he wondered if it had not been better if the geth had been successful in purging the station; removing every last life on this station, whether they were innocent or corrupt from this station. In hopes that maybe then, could they have successfully rebuilt on the ashes of those who had perished, that true justice could be allowed to flourish. Maybe then they learn from their mistakes and force themselves to confront the ugly reality that stood in front of them. But they didn't, and because the same people were still in charge, the cycle was allowed to repeat itself.

These were the dark and desperate thoughts of a bitter soldier who had been the target of praise and scorn to these types of people. He had won the hearts and adulation of so many after his 'heroic' stand at Elysium, but those same people who had cheered and heaped praise upon him, turned against him after Torfan. They saw him as a Butcher, who on that moon in that horrible battle, they claimed he was a man who had fallen in love with his own legacy, and in doing so had allowed his platoon to all but be wiped out.

He pushed away those thoughts, not wanting a headache before his meeting with Anderson. He stared down at his reflection, remembering the time when he came here after Eden Prime. A battle that had thrust him back into the spotlight, and back into focus for public and political dissection. He was a soldier, who had survived a terrible battle only to be dropped into an even more savage and bloodthirsty arena-politics.

Those had been dark times for Commander John Shepard, but in that time, he had found a friend. Someone who offered him a gift, an encouraging reminder of what lay ahead of him, of what was asked of him, and what was needed of him. It had been this refreshing voice and perspective which helped the stoic Commander regain his clarity and return his efforts into stopping Saren. The reminder of this particular friend brought a smile to his lips and a destination for him to get to, taking one last look at the peaceful lake. He headed back into the Presidium District.

He had never forgotten the brief, but impactful words she had given him after he had helped her in a very delicate and personal matter.

"_I offer a gift of words, an affirmation of who you are, and who you will become. I see you, your uniform fits as though you were born wearing it. You are a soldier through and through."_

He was the son of two Alliance Officers. A boy who spent his youth on warships and frigates, around marines and officers, lived throughout the galaxy within numerous bases. Battle, war, strategy, duty, order, discipline, this was what his childhood education consisted of. He had enlisted on his eighteenth birthday, from there he excelled in his education and training, and would be one of the few who successfully graduated from the famously difficult, but highly touted N-7 program.

"_Proud, solitary, alone- _

_A wall between you and everyone else, but it protects you, makes you strong. It is that strength that people are drawn to, it is why you lead and others follow without question. You will need that leadership in the battles to come."_

His accomplishments had made him proud, and the difficulty and pressure that his life offered him, made it easier for him to push others away. Making it difficult for him to have a deep personal relationship or any deep friendships inside or outside of the Alliance; so instead, the Commander chose to isolate himself. Her last sentence rang particularly true to him, knowing that without his leadership he would have been unable to stem the tide at Elysium. He would have been unable to rally civilians to stop the raiders. Knowing that without his leadership, he wouldn't have been successful in stirring confidence within his own men, within his platoon, to believe and follow him against all odds in the trenches of Torfan.

"_This may be who you are, but it is not who you will become. It only forms the basis for your future greatness._

_Remember these words when doubt descends, Commander."_

Evidence in these words was beginning to appear in his life. The stoic and distant Commander had been slowly lowering his guard and allowing select few individuals in. Miranda, Garrus, Wrex, Liara, Tali, Joker, were the immediate names to come to mind, further strengthening her words. He did take strength and comfort in the presence of his friends, learning to rely and trust on them during his days of chasing Saren.

He took strength in these words, remembering his own doubts and confusion in the beginning of his relationship with Miranda. Unsure about the emotional entanglements that could result in an ensuing relationship with the Cerberus Operative, but his doubts had been misleading. He had been wrong in thinking about cutting her off, because in his brief time with her, in both the time before his death and his resurrection, it was with her that he felt the most himself, the most at peace.

Shepard's dwelling on Miranda and the Consort's words were put aside once he arrived at the Consort's Chambers. He had been warmly greeted, and given a private booth and a glass of water as one of the Consort's handmaidens promised to seek out the Consort, to inform her of his arrival.

He sipped his water, thankful for the privacy that his booth offered him. Upon looking around the waiting area, and seeing the multitude of clients, he had begun rethinking his spontaneous visit. Seeing so many clients waiting for the Consort, he couldn't help but wonder if she would have time to even see him, before he was drawn away to his meeting with Anderson.

He thought about just abandoning his idea and leaving, instead of wasting his remaining hour simply waiting in this over-crowded waiting area. It was a tempting offer, but upon remembering the news which he wanted to give her, he decided to remain. After she had given him those stirring words, she had handed him a trinket of unknown origin and unusual craft, telling him that it had been in her presence long enough and feeling it was time to pass it on to someone else.

At the time, Shepard wasn't very impressed with the gift, and had been further compensated by the Consort, who had given Shepard a more intimate and physical gift for her gratefulness. He had never been particularly attracted to asari, but the Consort had been different. He had found himself drawn to the strong and sensual presence of Sha'ira. She would be the first and only asari that he had been with, leaving him with an experience unlike any other…

Not wanting to dwell on his past intimate encounters with the Consort, Shepard shifted his attention by studying the clients around him. They mainly consisted of humans, asari, and turians, but he did spot a volus and an elcor at the far end of the room. As well as a pair of salarians on a sofa who at the moment were being entertained by one of the many asari acolytes or handmaidens.

These acolytes of the Consort were mainly asari, and tended to the clients. They personally devoted time to those clients who would be unable to personally meet with the Consort. This time could be spent in a number of ways, including conversation, massages, entertainment and other means of 'pampering.'

"Commander?"

Shepard looked up at the acolyte who had approached him, recognizing the face of the blue skinned asari, a name soon came to his memory-Nelyna. He had gotten to know this particular acolyte because she was usually the one positioned at the entrance to greet coming clients.

She smiled when their eyes met, "She will see you now."

Shepard nodded his thanks, finishing the rest of his water in one sip; getting up from his booth, he followed the acolyte to the Consort's Chambers. It was just as he remembered, walking up a long stairwell and crossing through a lush garden before arriving at the two doors that led to the personal chambers of the Consort.

Nelyna stepped aside to allow Shepard to pass, offering him a friendly smile when he walked by, before bowing her head once the doors to the chambers opened.

He tentatively walked into the private chambers of Sha'ira, spotting the asari consort at once. She was standing by the tinted window, overlooking the Presidium. She was dressed in her soft-colored robes which accentuated her curves. Her hands were gently clasped behind her back, and when she turned to face him, a soft smile came to her pink lips.

"Shepard," she said, in a musical voice.

He returned her smile, offering her a nod, but made no attempt for the usual embrace the two would share during his past visits. He brought his hands behind his back, looking around her room, noticing it looked much the same as it did, the last time he saw her.

The glass covered bed tucked away in a corner, while the opposite corner was furnished with a pair of comfortable, soft sofas which were separated by an ornate, glass table. Trinkets and statues from numerous cultures and species were on display throughout her room. These no doubt came from previous suitors who rewarded the consorts these gifts as thanks for her services.

"I had heard rumors that you're preparing to leave the Citadel?"

She gestured to a pair of asari statues at her side, "as you can see, I still haven't done my packing."

He nodded, watching as she approached him with careful, well timed steps.

"I had heard rumors of your death, but it seems like my own rumors that they have been greatly exaggerated."

He sighed, shaking his head, but made no attempt to clarify her correct her words. Even though he considered her a friend, he didn't want to relive his death or retell the story of his rebirth, not now, anyway.

She hid her curiosity and disbelief well, when she was close enough, she embraced him, but sensing his stiffness, she pulled away after a few seconds. Her blue eyes surveying him closely, before the corner of her mouth tugged upwards, before placing a hand on her hips. "Who's the lucky woman, Shepard?"

Shepard could only smile at her astute observation, before shaking his head, to tell her that at the moment, he was not willing to divulge the details of his personal affairs with a certain Cerberus Operative...

"No matter, Shepard," she said softly, her eyes sincere, when she added. "It's still good to see you."

"Likewise," he returned, before allowing her soft hands to grab his elbow and gently lead him to the pair of sofas. He took the one lined against the wall, while she took the other.

"Can I interest you in anything to drink?" She gestured to the intricately painted pottery cups on the table between them.

He shook his head, "No, I'm fine, I don't have long."

"Well, I'm glad you decided to see me," she remarked genuinely.

"I wanted to see you," he said, before clarifying. "I wanted to tell you about the trinket you had given me."

"Oh?" Sha'ira asked; her elegantly drawn eye brows furrowed. It was clear of all the things she was expecting for them to discuss that had not been one of them.

"Yes, I actually found the purpose to it," he revealed.

"Really?" asked Sha'ira, unable to keep the curiosity out of her tone.

"It was Prothean," he explained. "It was a key, in which I used to unlock a Prothean ruin on Eletaina."

"Fascinating," she marveled. "What did you find?"

Shepard instinctively scratched the back of his neck, recalling the vivid pain he had felt from the vision he had received from the Prothean device. "I was given a vision."

Sha'ira leaned closer to him, enthralled by his answer, but clearly wasn't satisfied if her next question was any gauge. "What did it show you?"

"Humans," answered Shepard simply, seeing her confusion, he added. "What we were like fifty thousand years ago, when the Protheans were studying us."

"Remarkable," she breathed.

Shepard nodded, agreeing with the simple but accurate word to best describe the experience. He leaned back in his seat, allowing himself to recall the experience which the trinket had given him. "It…it was remarkable," he paused. "I…I was one of those humans."

She frowned, "pardon?"

"It transported me into one of the humans." He stopped, to make sure she was following, a polite nod from her signaled that she was and that she wanted to know more, he acquiesced. "I experienced what they were experiencing. I saw what they saw, heard what they heard. For that brief moment, I had been transported to an Earth 50,000 years ago."

She smiled, leaning back in her seat, "It must have been an incredible experience." Her blue eyes deep in thought, signaling she was reflecting on what he had shared with her, a ghost of a smile remained on her pink lips.

"It was," he said, reflecting back on the time. He and Liara had gone down to explore the ruins after discovering the site when they were looking for an Alliance Satellite. The two had chosen to go alone, because they shared a passionate interest in history, and were both eager in wanting to look and study the ruins.

To Shepard it was a reminder of a time during his mission with Saren when he was able to enjoy himself and those he had surrounded himself with, including Liara. Recalling the times the soldier and archaeologist would get together and teach one another different histories. Liara would teach Shepard Prothean and Asari history, while he taught her human history, focusing on humanity' before they were a space faring people.

He remembered how worried Liara had been when he had awoken from his vision induced blackout. Remembering how that worry was then replaced with excitement when he shared with her what he had seen from the point of view of humans. She had speculated that the vision he had received from the Prothean Beacon on Eden Prime and the cipher from Feros had given him the ability to access the Eletaina ruins because they had believed him to be Prothean.

"Thank you, Shepard," she said, her soft, musical voice puncturing through Shepard's memories of Eletaina. "I'm honored and grateful that you decided to personally share this with me."

He shrugged, "I thought it was a better story in person then over an email."

She smiled at his joke, and nodded in agreement. "It was." Her eyes took a more serious hue, and her expression became pensive, before her blue eyes found his. "I'm actually glad you've come."

"Because of the story?"

She shook her head, her hands smoothing over invisible wrinkles on the front of her robes. "When I had been told of your death, I had thought my gift of words had been incorrect. This went beyond any feelings of embarrassment or doubt in my gifts, because in that time, I was not worried of my perception but of you…"

"Sha'ira?" Shepard asked, patiently, unsure what his friend was trying to communicate.

Her fingers stopped in the needless attempt at ironing out her already smooth robes. "I grieved your death, Shepard. In your absence did I realize that I had not lost a client, but a friend, and seeing you before me, it is like a direct gift from the Goddess herself."

He reached over the table, gently grabbing one of her soft hands and giving it a friendly, but firm squeeze. The action caused her blue eyes to meet his. Her eyes shimmered with the truth and sincerity that her words were echoing with the same real, genuine emotion.

"But in seeing you, I sense that you head toward an even deeper darkness."

_She had no idea, how right she was, _he mused, reflecting on the Suicide mission in front of him, but he remained silent, allowing her to continue with her speech.

"When you fought Saren, only your resolve was tested, but now I fear you cannot rely only on your own strength. Take whatever steps you must to ensure that those battling at your side will fight with clear minds and glad hearts."

The images of Jacob, Mordin, and Drek came to his mind, as well as the countless other dossiers of those he had yet to recruit. He saw the wisdom in her advice, knowing that he could and should secure trusts and even friendships with those he was going to surround himself for this pending Suicide Mission. Realizing that he was going to need more than just his strength to defeat the Collectors, he was going to need everyone working together.

"I will," he vowed.

* * *

><p>Shepard had finished his meeting with Anderson which included a brief conversation with the newly formed Council, who were being led by human Councilor, Donnel Udina. A man, who was quickly rising through the ranks of the list of people Shepard despised. After finishing his meeting with the Council and Anderson, and not wanting to try their limited 'hospitality,' Shepard had ordered <em>the Normandy<em> to leave upon his return.

He had retreated to the sanctuary of his cabin, but he was not alone. He had given a summary of his talks with Anderson and the Council with Miranda and Garrus. The former was pacing furiously in front of his fish tank, while the latter was casually lounging on one of the sofas which formed an L. Shepard had made himself comfortable on the other sofa.

According to them, he had been overtly-traumatized from his ordeal with Saren. With this convenient excuse and his absence these last two years, they had no need or desire to investigate his claims of Reapers or the pending invasion. They had allowed themselves to bury their heads in the sand, refusing to even acknowledge any ounce of credence to his story. Wanting to make him an example, they were quick to rule that he was no longer fit to represent the Council, and therefore was unable to remain a Spectre.

"At least they didn't try to arrest you," Garrus pointed out, puncturing Shepard's lingering bitter thoughts of the Council and their ruling.

"I'm sure they wanted to," Shepard replied, knowing their desire to see him locked up must have only increased when they realized that he was now working with Cerberus. "Give it time."

"You're right," Garrus agreed. "Your luck always goes from bad to worse."

"Thanks for the pep-talk, Garrus," Shepard replied dryly. "I feel so much better now."

Garrus chuckled, stretching out his arms on the sofa to make himself more comfortable, "makes you realize just how pointless all these politicians and politics really are."

"Agreed," Shepard said, knowing that he was sure to have received the same treatment had the previous Council survived. He was aware that even with a replacement of Udina with a staunch supporter like Anderson wouldn't amount to much, because of the politics in place.

Miranda had stopped in her pacing, so that she could face the turian and human who were both comfortably sitting on the couches. "The Alliance has not been much better. They have become the lapdog of the Council, begging at their heels, ready and eager for their table scraps. They care more for their place in the galaxy then they do in preserving humanity."

"I know," Shepard agreed, "that's why I resigned from the Alliance this afternoon."

"You what?"

"You're kidding right, Shepard?"

He calmly looked up at his two friends, Miranda had been so surprised by his revelation that the usual controlled and schooled Operative didn't bother to hide her dismay at the news of his decision.

Garrus' mandibles twitched in surprise, his small blue eyes blinking with bemusement at this revelation.

"That was the same reaction Anderson gave me," Shepard deadpanned. He had been surprised by how easy it had been for him to resign his position from the Alliance. Their handling of both himself and the Reapers had made it an easy decision for the Alliance Major to make. He would not allow himself to be bogged down by either the Alliance or the Citadel. He had a job to do, and was not going to allow anyone to get in his way in his duty in stopping the Collectors and Reapers.

"If the Alliance gets their shit together, then I'll be willing to work with them for the greater good in stopping the Reapers," Shepard clarified his position, holding the option open of a cordial reunion between the two sides. "But I believe this works best for everyone, the Alliance gets me out of their hands, and I no longer have to be hamstrung by their dealings with the Reapers."

"You quit just like that?" asked Garrus. "And Anderson just accepted it?"

"In part," answered Shepard. "He told me that my resignation would be pending for a few weeks to allow me a chance to change my mind, but I don't think that will happen."

"You're very casual about this," Miranda observed, crossing her arms, as her icy blue eyes examined him.

"I'm not the same person I was when I joined the Alliance," he responded, with a shrug. "And the Alliance is not the same organization I thought they were."

"Well," Garrus began, "I can't fault you for quitting the Alliance, since I quit C-Sec."

"We had our reasons," Shepard pointed out.

Garrus nodded, "you can only handle so much shit thrown at you."

"Charming," Miranda drawled, with a roll of her eyes.

Shepard chuckled, "not quite the image I had in mind, but I agree with the sentiment behind it."

"I don't know what's worse, the Reapers or the politicians," Garrus remarked, breaking the jovial silence that had fallen on the three with his own sobering observations. "I mean at least the Reapers are honest with their intentions."

"It makes you wonder," Shepard replied, "if perhaps Sulla, Caesar, and even Napoleon were right."

"Who?" asked a confused Garrus. The turian unrehearsed in the histories of mankind turned a puzzled expression in Shepard's direction.

"They were dictators," clarified Shepard, who had spent a good amount of his free time over the years studying the history of humanity. In those readings, he would come across ambitious and brilliant men who rose to power, in trying to fix the Republics that granted them power, they dismantled them. At this moment, Shepard couldn't deny how alluring the thought was in overthrowing the Council, to install someone who could get results. This someone who would combat the Reapers; make the hard choices that were needed to combat the unparallel evil that the Reapers represented.

"Could you make those choices, Shepard?" asked Miranda. The Cerberus Operative had mostly been silent during the conversation, resigned to allowing Shepard and Garrus do most of the talking and in their case, joking. She was leaning against Shepard's fish tank, her arms folded, her eyes on him while she waited for an answer.

He looked up to meet her intensive blue stare, clasping his hands together before resting them on his lap, he sat up straighter, mulling over Miranda's question. He was not new to making difficult choices. Besides the one he was most famous for at Elysium, Torfan, Virmire, the Citadel, there were other choices he made that were just as difficult.

On Feros, he sacrificed the colonists, by killing them in order to stop the Thorian. They had become thralls, obedient and hostile obstacles for the Thorian to throw at Shepard and his squad. He couldn't allow them to stand aside in his duty to stop the Thorian, so he killed them, and when he did, there was no hesitation.

He thought about the possible scenarios and the choices that he would be faced in this supposed Reaper war, aware that casualties of both military and civilian were sure to be high, but he also understood that sometimes in order to win, sacrifices must be made, "Yeah, without hesitation."

"Well then, I'll start printing up flyers for your campaign," Garrus joked.

Shepard smirked, "How about, Shepard/Vakarian, calibrating a better future, today."

Garrus laughed, "I like it." Still wearing, an amused expression, he stood up, stretching his arms while he did. He stepped away from the sofas. "But your joke reminded me of something."

Miranda shifted her gaze to the turian, "What's that?"

"I got to do some calibrations on the cannons."

Shepard rolled his eyes, unable to resist the urge, while the corners of his lips tugged upwards. "I'd hate to keep ya."

Garrus gave what could have passed as a cordial nod to Miranda, before passing the Cerberus Operative and heading to the doors, before calling over his shoulders. "Sorry, Shepard, but someone has to work on this ship."

Shepard had no time for a rebuttal since the turian was gone. His response died on his lips when the doors closed shut behind Garrus, leaving the Commander alone with the XO. A small smile still on his lips from the exchange of teasing taunts between himself and his turian comrade, when he turned his focus on the unusually silent Miranda. She had a pensive expression, her blue eyes looked distant, revealing that she was probably deep in thought, but knowing Miranda, it wasn't just one thought, but probably several.

"I almost didn't recognize the ship," Shepard remarked, referring to the new paint job, which had removed the countless and pointless symbols of Cerberus that had been stamped throughout the inside and outside of the ship.

Miranda eyes snapped back into the present, before focusing on Shepard, a smile forming on her lips. "I will admit that Cerberus went a bit overboard."

"A bit?" repeated Shepard, pushing himself out of his seat. "One or two Cerberus symbols would have been 'a bit.' They put dozens, not to mention the large one on the outside of the ship."

She shook her head, fighting off an amused expression, while she watched him approach her. "Fair point," She mused.

He smiled, leaning in to whisper, "can we expect privacy?"

"No interruptions," she promised, her fingers trailing down his unscarred cheek, before her lips sought his for a searing kiss. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her smaller frame while she deepened the kiss.

"Good," he breathed, after breaking the kiss, his fingers gently went up her arm, before finding the strap on her cat-suit at the back of her neck, which covered up her zipper. "Because I just noticed another Cerberus symbol that has to go," He added, beginning to tug her zipper down.

Miranda gently kissed along his jaw-line, before her lips were at his ear, she purred. "We can't have that, Commander."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know not alot revealed about Drek in this chapter, but you will learn more about Shepard's new squadmate throughout this story, especially on his own loyalty mission.**

**I've always been interested in the Leviathan of Dis, since I first read about it back during Mass Effect One, so I'm looking forward to further explore the mystery behind this supposed 'Reaper.' This story arc and Drek is outlined and mostly written, and its now just about finding the proper place to put it in this story. So stay tuned.**

****The story arc between Shepard and The Alliance also isn't over. More to come from both the organization and Shepard himself****

****Don't forget to leave a review. To let me know what you think...****

**Thanks again,**

**-Spectre4hire**


	5. 4: Balance

**We will Rise**

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Four: Balance**

This went against everything Miranda Lawson used to believe in. She was not a woman of emotional attachment. She never experienced emotional investments with her past lovers. She put up walls, to protect herself. She was the 'Ice Queen of Cerberus'. She used her icy demeanor and perfected her aloof personality over the years, to keep others from encroaching on her.

It would all be undone by one man. The very man whose room she was now in, whose bed she now lay in, his snores echoing throughout the cabin. It was the only noise in Shepard's room. She blinked in the darkness of his room, the only light coming from the bluish glow of his aquarium.

She had forgotten just how wonderful it felt to be with him. She had only been with him a handful of nights at the Citadel before his departure, but it had been enough for her. As much as she had tried to fight it, or hide it, she couldn't, she had fallen for Shepard. At the time, it had scared her. She was after all, a woman who thrived on independence.

She had taken lovers in the past, but she never shared feelings for them. She never cared for them. To her, it wasn't personal. It was only pleasure. With her beauty, she was cursed, with all of her perfections, she was flawed. That was why she had put up walls, to shield herself, to protect her. It was a defense mechanism that had paid dividends for her.

Now with Shepard, nothing would ever be the same again. That terrified but excited her. Miranda Lawson was pragmatic. She didn't like surprises. She planned everything. She was a woman, who didn't factor in chance or luck, only facts and truths. She looked at her relationship with Shepard with the same critical eye she used when she was a Director and Operative during her experiments and missions with Cerberus.

Yet, this relationship threatened to test her in ways she'd never been tested before. With Shepard, she was walking a razor's edge, staring down into the proverbial abyss, threatening to engulf her, if she slipped or made a mistake. She was use to weighing risks and consequences when she conducted her experiments and operated her missions. Like any experiment, she knew the chances of failure and the repercussions it could have. It could theoretically undo everything; she spent a lifetime building up.

She knew all of this. She had months, and years to find a hundred different reasons why she shouldn't continue her relationship with Shepard. It seemed perfectly logical for the pragmatic Operative. The answer was clear. So why didn't she choose it? Why did she instead, throw away her logic, her reasoning, strip herself of the shackles of her Ice Queen persona and welcome resuming her relationship with Shepard…

Miranda Lawson sighed, sitting up to punch her pillow a few times to vent her frustration at these plaguing thoughts. She was careful to be quiet, not wanting to disturb her lover. She looked over, enviously to see he was out like a light.

She could remember him, confronting her onboard _the Normandy_. He wanted answers. She thought she wanted a peace. She thought she wanted distance. This was her chance. She could amicably cut ties between them. They had a hundred good reasons not to pursue a relationship. They were on a Suicide Mission! This was her moment, to free herself from him. The independent and aloof Cerberus Operative that she thrived to be, could finally reestablish herself.

She didn't. She agreed with him to continue to resume their relationship. Even with all of her frustrations and concerns that it wasn't the 'logical' choice. To her, it was the right choice.

She was still the XO of _the Normandy_ and had no intentions in broadcasting her relationship with Shepard. Appearances still needed to be kept. She'd maintain her infamous Ice Queen of Cerberus persona. She'd still be the icy XO of _the Normandy_ and the frosty liaison of the Illusive Man.

And with Shepard, she could lower those walls. She could be herself with him. She could talk about art, music, literature, and history with him. She was able to smile and laugh. It would be just him and her. She welcomed that. She wanted that. She never thought she would yearn for such intimacy with another individual, but Shepard had changed everything for Miranda Lawson.

This did not mean she'd run to Shepard to solve her problems. She still had her pride. She was still a competent woman, who didn't need others to interfere in her life. She was more than capable of handling certain things. She wouldn't need to go to him crying about her personal matters or past issues. These were areas that she could handle.

Before Shepard, others sought Miranda for her beauty, to be an accessory, a piece of 'arm candy.' She was to be something pretty to look at, something of superficial value. They didn't want substance. Shepard didn't want an accessory, he wanted an equal partner. He didn't want to limit her; on the contrary he challenged her, because he wanted the best from her. Yes, she was beginning to realize how thankful she was for finding him. It had not always been so clear to if her if this attachment to Shepard was a blessing or a curse. Was it a hindrance to her, or a form of liberation?

In the infancy of their relationship, stemming back to the days after Saren's assault on the Citadel, she experienced the warring personalities waging within her. In these moments, was the voice of her old unattached and calculating self. It warned her about her feelings for Shepard. It preyed on her fears and insecurities. Fears that were already rooted deep within her. Fears she tried to bury, insecurities she had tried to forget about. It was the reason she put up her walls. She wanted to protect herself.

There were still moments, fleeting, but still residing in the back of her subconscious that warned her about her feelings for Shepard. It used these moments to try to disrupt her commitment to Shepard, to herself, and to their growing relationship. It was an intimate moment like this one, lying beside her lover that she was easily able to subdue her insecurities and focus on the feeling of contentment that filled her…

She paused in her musings when she felt movement from her lover. His hand which was resting snugly on her hip, stretched out, allowing his arm to drape over her torso. She froze, unable to put to words the feelings that his touch stirred within her, even now when he was nothing more than sleeping. It was a powerful feeling that the independent Miranda Lawson could not deny or describe. It was simply perfect.

Snoring from the Commander ensued, signaling that he was still fast asleep. She saw light and movement from the corner of her eye. It was the avatar of EDI materializing in its position in front of Shepard's aquarium.

"Commander Shepard?"

"Huh?" he groaned, stirring beneath the covers. "What is it, EDI?"

Miranda could detect the annoyance in his voice at being woken up so early. EDI apparently did not.

"The Normandy has arrived at Korlus, Commander."

According to Cerberus sources, that was the location of the krogan Warlord-Okeer. From the information in his dossier, this krogan has had many dealings with the Collectors over the last few years. Miranda was sure that if anyone could help give them some inside information on the elusive species known as the Collectors, it should be this krogan scientist.

Shepard perked, at this news. He pushed himself to a sitting position, the blankets sliding off of him to reveal his bare chest. "Alright, thank you, EDI."

"Commander Shepard?"

He stretched out his arms over his head before answering the avatar, "Yes, EDI?"

"Drek has been paging you the last thirty minutes."

Miranda frowned in the darkness, wondering what the batarian would want with Shepard, especially at this hour.

"Oh?" he asked, "What does he want?"

"He would like to speak with you."

Shepard instinctively turned to Miranda, she was sure she saw him smile, before turning his attention back to EDI. "Okay, EDI, can you tell him that I will see him shortly."

"Very well, Commander, logging you out." EDI's avatar disappeared.

Miranda took EDI's report as her cue that she needed to get dressed and leave. She tossed back the covers before sitting up and placing her feet on the cold metal floor of the Cabin. She could feel a strong hand gently stroke across her shoulder. She leaned into his gentle touch, "Hmmm."

"Morning, Miss Lawson."

"Morning, Commander," she replied, looking over her shoulder to see Shepard's ensnaring blue eyes were on her. His hand continuing to caress the bare skin between her bra straps. She stifled the urge to return to bed. It was the reminder that work needed to be done that propelled her, saying as much to Shepard.

He groaned, dropping his hand from her back. She pushed herself off of her bed and padded across the room in search of her clothes. She found her Cerberus cat-suit resting on the arm of one of the leather couches.

She picked up her discarded cat-suit, and turned to him, "What do you think Drek wants?"

He shrugged, slipping into his N7 shirt before getting out of bed. "I don't know."

Miranda hadn't made up her mind on Drek, yet. She couldn't deny his tech skill. She had seen it on full display back at Sanctum. She had tried to access his Cerberus files, but she wasn't having any luck so far. She had difficulties in believing his revelation that the Batarian Hegemony were conducting Reaper experiments. Her follow up research and attempts to discover answers had been thwarted. It made her very frustrated.

She slid into her cat-suit, slipping into the sleeves to help hold up the material since it was threatening to slip right back off since her zipper remained undone. She knew how to fix that, "Do you mind?"

Shepard smiled, standing behind her, she nestled her body closer to his, resting her head in the crook of his neck, while he grabbed her front zipper which when zipped up, went the length of her abdomen, chest, before being tucked away at the base of her neck. He slid his other hand inside the opening of her suit. His fingers applied soothing ministrations across her flat stomach. His caresses brought warmth to swell within her chest and an electrical surge to go up her spine. She closed her eyes, leaning into his chest. "Hmm, that's nice," she purred.

Too quickly, she could feel his hand slip out of her cat-suit so that he could finish zipping her up. His hands resting on her shoulders once the task was done, she turned in time to see him lean forward to meet her lips with his for a short kiss.

When he broke away, his lips were crooked into a smile. "I missed that."

"Did you?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Among other things," he answered, making a point of having his eyes roam over her body.

She rolled her eyes, unable to fight the smile that came to her lips, at his teasing, "Ass."

His smile still intact, he offered her a shrug, before stepping away from her and going over to his closet.

She went into his bathroom, to inspect her appearance in the mirror. Her cat-suit was wrinkled and her hair was a mess. She dragged her fingers through her dark curls in hopes of reassembling some sort of professional appearance since she had to return to her cabin.

"Are you going to come down with us?"

Miranda peered out the bathroom, to see Shepard had gathered up his N7 armor and was putting it on his unmade bed. "To Korlus, you mean?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"I think I can," she answered, knowing that if she wanted to make the mission then she needed to complete the mounting pile of paperwork waiting for her back in her office.

"Good, it's a date."

"That's your idea of a date?" She stepped out of the bathroom. "Recruiting a krogan scientist?"

"A good one," he replied, his boyish smile intact.

She liked his smile. It showed a lighter, more charming Shepard. It was not a side that many people got to see from the first human Spectre. The media had always played up the stoic or scowling Shepard. They tried to portray him as the brooding hero or the indifferent soldier.

"Don't worry, I'll bring Garrus and Mordin to act as chaperones," he joked.

That absurd idea caused her to laugh. Not to mention, the mental image it brought of those two acting as supposedly responsible chaperones."I can't wait," she drawled, leaving his office without another word. She had her work to attend to, while he needed to speak with Drek.

She pressed the call button for the elevator, while she waited. She shifted her attention to her omni-tool, to remotely access the terminal in her office.

She sighed. It was just as she feared. She had a lot of work waiting for her. The aloof Ice Queen persona tried to tell her that she should have done it last night. She shouldn't have spent the evening with Shepard. These attempts failed at trying to convince her that she had made a mistake.

Recalling last night, remembering the intimacy between her and Shepard, she couldn't help but smile-_No, it certainly wasn't a mistake._

* * *

><p><em>So this was the future of the krogan?<em>

Miranda mused, staring up at the towering creation of Dr. Okeer. A hand resting on her hip, her head tilted to the side, as she regarded the contained krogan. Her other hand hung loose at her side, her fingers tapping against the holster of her pistol. It was an instinct.

She frowned. Retrieving this krogan had not been part of the plan. They had gone to Korlus in hopes of recruiting Okeer. All of the information that Cerberus had gathered was about him. They were hoping to retrieve vital Intel about the Collectors from the Krogan scientist, who had made transactions with the mysterious species in the past. But now, Okeer was dead, and they had inherited his experimental test subject. This krogan had been created and taught to be the perfect specimen.

She wasn't comfortable with Shepard's decision of 'birthing' this krogan from its tank. To her, there were too many unknowns. It was impossible for them to properly predict the krogan's response once it was awakened. What she saw as a risk, he saw as a tool, a weapon that he could direct and use against the Collectors. It was a gamble. However, she had to admit that if anyone could bring a perfect krogan in line it would be Shepard.

That still did not make her comfortable with turning this krogan loose on the ship. It was more than likely that it would go on a rampage through _the Normandy_ as soon as it was released. With the ship's tight quarters, it would certainly cause some serious damage, especially if it lived up to the hype that Okeer had heaped upon it.

_This is you, _the unsettling realization bubbled up within Miranda while she examined this tank bred krogan-this supposed perfect krogan. She bristled at the comparison, wanting to dismiss it at once as ludicrous, that she could be compared to this science project. How she, a Cerberus operative could find any common ground with this tank bred krogan would be an absurd comparison to those who were unfamiliar with Miranda's past…

An icy shiver went up her back because inside she knew the comparison struck true. She tried to stamp out the thought, but it only weeded its way deeper into her mind, forcing her to confront the similarities between herself and this…test subject.

This krogan was created by unnatural means through a syringe by Okeer who strove to imprint the best genetics that he had access to. He wanted this krogan to be the perfect representation of his people. This krogan would be the one who would break the shackles that the salarian engineered genophage had used to bind the krogan since the Rebellions. It was supposed to be the beginning of a new age for the krogan.

She too was created in a lab by her father, who used his own genetic template. Her intelligence, biotic abilities and her appearance had all been designed to make her the perfect woman. While her strength, stamina, intelligence, and combat was honed through years of rigorous training as she grew up, all under her father's watchful eye. She too had lofty expectations placed upon her. She was to be the beginning of her father's 'lasting' dynasty.

"Is there a problem, Miss Lawson?"

She quickly turned on the spot to see Commander Shepard standing at the entrance of the storage hold, his arms hung loosely at his side when he walked in. His blue eyes never leaving her.

She instinctively took a step away from the storage container that was holding Okeer's 'legacy.' She met his gaze with her own stare. "No problem at all, Commander."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press, walking around her to turn his focus on the krogan. Its shadow loomed over Shepard, who stood between the container and Miranda.

"A perfect krogan," he mused, letting out an appreciative whistle. "It may have been tailor made by a mad krogan scientist, but still-"

His words trailed off into a silent void. Miranda Lawson was unable to listen, as the nagging comparisons between herself and this krogan became louder and louder within her head. She and this krogan were the same. Her father was the mad scientist that decided to create her. She closed her eyes, desperately fighting to push back the memories and thoughts of her father, that life, and the past she escaped from all those years ago…

"Miranda?"

She blinked, looking up to see Shepard was watching her with a growing level of concern. She took a few calming breaths, and with relative and practiced ease was able to slip on her icy mask of indifference.

"It's nothing."

He frowned. His eyes matching her glacier stare, while her eyes deflected and hid the number of emotions warring within her. His stare though stoic, she could see the hue of concern that shimmered beneath his look.

She wasn't aware of ever being on the receiving end of any sincere or heartfelt concern. For a moment, she thought about speaking truthfully to him, to reveal the nature of distress within her, but that moment of weakness passed for Miranda Lawson. She may be intimately revolved with him, but that didn't mean she would become some blubbering mess who came to him to fix all of her problems. She was strong, she was independent. And these comparisons were nothing she couldn't handle-alone.

"Do you think this thing will choose to fight for you?" she asked, realizing the iciness that laced her tone, but she didn't care, needing a way to deflect his attention away from herself. A twinge of coldness settled within her, when she referred to this krogan as a 'thing,' knowing perfectly well that she was no different from Okeer's subject.

Her strategy seemed to work, his eyes went back to the krogan. "This thing might not be Okeer, but I have the feeling, he may be a hell of a lot better."

She crossed her arms. "You still need to wake him up Shepard, and see where he stands."

"He'll fight for me."

She had to admire the confidence in his voice and stance as his eyes went back to the krogan. She was sure that if this krogan would follow anyone it probably would be Shepard. He had the charisma and strength to bring almost anyone to heel.

"Was there a reason you came down?"

She shook her head, remaining mute on the subject and the instinctive comparison that was bubbling up between her and Okeer's experiment.

"Miranda," he pressed, tenderly, dropping all pretenses of protocol.

She had been taken off-guard by the tenderness in his tone, but her resolve remained firm. "It's nothing, Shepard."

"You're a horrible liar."

"I am not," she protested, tersely. "And I'm not lying."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, before finally nodding. "Alright, Miranda, you're not lying." He sounded tired, defeated.

A pang of guilt strummed through her, at his expression, and the sincerity in which he spoke, in trying to help her, in trying to talk to her. She was not comfortable with the insufferable silence that settled between the lovers.

"I just wanted to give you a friendly warning," she withdrew the pistol from her hip holster, slapping it into his hand, "Just in case."

His blue eyes went from the pistol, to her eyes, his tired frown slowly grew into a smile.

She was pleased to see him smile and was happy to return it with her own. Not wanting to remain trapped with this krogan or the comparisons that swirled through her head, she left the Storage Hold without another word.

She could only wonder if EDI would be broadcasting an announcement shortly about a rampaging krogan on the loose in the lower levels of_ the Normandy…_

* * *

><p>Miranda Lawson stepped out of the elevator. She had just finished giving her report on Korlus to the Illusive Man, detailing the mission as well as Okeer's fate and Shepard's decision to keep Okeer's experiment. To her surprise, and mild annoyance, the Illusive Man applauded his decision, agreeing with the Commander at the asset it could prove to be in their fight against the Collectors.<p>

She had instructed EDI to inform her, the moment Shepard decided to birth the krogan. EDI had shared similar concerns that Miranda had harbored about the repercussions if this birthing didn't go right. The AI believing it'd be very difficult if not impossible to contain a rampaging krogan on-board without suffering fatalities. EDI had monitored the delicate ordeal between Spectre and krogan, reporting that after a shaky standoff between the krogan and Shepard, it had been appeased and agreed to fight for Shepard- for now. According to EDI, this krogan was now 'affectionately' known as Grunt.

Laughter broke through her musings, walking alongside the elevator. She found the voices they belonged to. Sitting at one of the tables in the Mess Hall was Shepard, Garrus, and Jacob. She wasn't surprised by the jovial atmosphere that had set in between these three hardened soldiers. She remembered, Jacob taking to Shepard upon meeting the first human Spectre, they had been friendly since escaping the Lazarus station. She was also sure that Garrus and Jacob's dislike for mercenaries and thugs allowed the turian and Cerberus soldier something to bond over and form as a common ground that the human and turian could use to solidify a foundation of friendship.

Curious, she stepped closer to their table. They were oblivious to her presence. Their laughter subsided when Shepard put up his hands. "Okay, okay, so then he said." Shepard paused, straightening up his posture, while sobering up, wiping away all hints of mirth.

"Patriotic war cry: This is for Dekuuna."

His imitation of the monotone droning voice of the elcor was flawless. This sent the three men into another fit of laughter. She felt the corners of her lips tugging upwards, unable to deny that she was impressed at him being able to successfully mimic the odd alien species.

However, why Shepard was quoting an elcor was lost on her. She had a strong inkling, that he was reenacting a scene from one of those action elcor vids. He seemed to love those movies, if his extra-net queue was anything to go by. It contained mostly elcor action vids and elcor legal dramas, the reason why he enjoyed these forms of entertainment, Miranda wasn't sure she'd ever figure that out.

Seeing Shepard, she remembered their earlier conversation down in the storage hold, before he birthed Grunt. He had tried to talk to her, but she rebuffed him. She thought about going over there and talking to him, but she squashed that idea. She hadn't done anything wrong. She was a fiercely private person. She didn't like to talk about her past, about her father. It was her problem, not his. He already had enough to worry about. She didn't want to add to his burdens. Besides, she was more than capable of handling it.

So instead of going over to socialize with them, she made a beeline for her office. She still had a lot of work to do. They didn't seem to notice her presence since they were continuing to joke and laugh when she entered her office. Closing the door, she could hear one last line from Shepard. It was another instance of him imitating the elcor's monotone voice.

"Polite warning: I'll be back."

"Boys," Miranda murmured, rolling her eyes at their antics. It was bad enough she had to listen to Shepard and Garrus exchange jokes during missions, and poorly timed one-liners during the heat of combat. She now had to listen to them in the Mess Hall. She had to wonder, if she was ever going to get any peace and find the solitude to allow her to work in some semblance of silence.

She sat down in her seat, behind her desk, quick to call up her files and messages. As she waited, she rested her elbows on the table, cupping her face in her hands, and massaging her forehead with her fingers. She was exhausted.

She had spent much of the morning going through a mountain of paperwork. She spent the good part of her afternoon on Korlus, fighting through droves of Blue Suns Mercenaries, before spending the twilight hours meeting with the Illusive Man, before returning back to her office, where there was more work waiting for her to finish.

To only add to her annoyance while she was in here working, Commander Shepard was out in the Mess Hall, telling jokes and reenacting his favorite elcor action movies.

She sighed. Looking through her fingers to see the terminal screen had loaded. Removing her hands from her face, she began going through the files. Her first stop was going over the dossier of their next companion.

There was little about this 'Jack.' During her meeting with the Illusive Man, he had told her, everything had been arranged with the prison ship-Purgatory. All they had to do was pick up the convict, and then automatically the Purgatory would upload the agreed upon credits from a Cerberus account. Shepard had already instructed Joker to make Purgatory, _the Normandy's _next location.

"Miss Lawson?

Miranda looked up from her terminal to see EDI's avatar appear, "Yes, EDI?"

"Drek would like to speak with you. He is waiting outside."

_I wonder what he wants, _Miranda mused, remembering Drek had wanted to speak to Shepard before the Korlus mission. She found out later, that he had wanted to speak with the Commander, because he had wanted to come along on the mission. Shepard agreed. The batarian didn't prove to be a bad choice, since he was able to handle his former compatriots-the Blue Suns.

"Very well, EDI," Miranda said, looking at her terminal and closing the files and messages she'd opened. "Send him in." She knew was being overly cautious, but she didn't get to the position she was in by underestimating people. She was aware of the batarian's tech skills and even if he was a Cerberus informant, she didn't want any sensitive information to be leaked on her account.

She looked up from her terminal in time to see the doors slide open and Drek walking in, the doors closing as soon as the batarian entered her office. The towering batarian remained in his Blue Suns armor, though Miranda noted, he removed the insignias and other symbols of the mercenary gang from his chest and shoulder pads. He was also wearing a visor which covered his upper pair of eyes.

"Have a seat," she gestured to one of the two chairs set up in front of her desk.

"No, thanks," he said gruffly. "I don't intend on staying."

Miranda accepted the decline smoothly. As an operative with Cerberus, she was use to handling difficult people. "Then how may I help you?"

His four eyes scanned the room, before his lower-set transfixed on her, but his upper-set remained surveying her room. "You're the liaison of the Illusive Man?"

"That is correct," she answered, finding the use of the batarian's four eyes unsettling. It made it difficult for her to discern which set of eyes to focus on. She recognized it as a clear advantage to the batarians when they dealt with other species.

He tilted his head to the right. "I need to speak with him, privately."

"I see," she said, slowly. Her limited dealings with batarians made her aware that his gesture was usually interpreted as a sign of disrespect. He wasn't impressed with her. He thought himself superior to her. She ignored his gesture, feigning ignorance of the meaning behind it.

"I believe I can arrange that." She thought she saw a brief flicker of orange light coming from his armor, but his reply broke through her concentration

He nodded, "good, it is a more urgent matter." He brought his arms to his chest. "It's important that I speak with him as soon as possible."

"I understand," she said, keeping her tone frosty. "I will send your request to his station right away."

"I know, you will," he said.

She frowned, at his smug tone, noticing his eyes lingering on her terminal. She instinctively looked down and to her astonishment, her terminal screen was flashing. Looking closer she noticed that she was already in the password controlled network that gave her terminal direct access to the Illusive Man. Her terminal was the only one on-board _the Normandy_ that had the built in network to connect with the Illusive Man. She had to enter two passwords to get past two separate security frames just to send the Cerberus leader a message.

_That couldn't be possible, _she thought, maintaining her icy façade when she looked up to see she was the target of the batarian's four eyed stare. His lips crooked into a smile.

"What are you waiting for?" he gestured with his hand, the omni-tool on his arm glowed. "I already did the hard part."

She bit down the scathing insult that threatened to slip past her façade. She instead redirected her attention to the terminal. "Would you like to type up the message too?"

He chuckled, "No, that's okay. I don't think I'm as eloquent as you."

She typed up the short message to her boss, informing him of Drek's request to speak with him privately-

"Make sure, you tell him it's urgent," Drek put in.

Despite her growing anger and frustration at the batarian's smug tone, she couldn't help but marvel at his tech skills. It should've been impossible. Her terminal had several firewalls to protect against hackers. It seemed that technology was pointless with someone like Drek on-board. If he was capable of reading her message as she typed it, not to mention his ability to hack through her terminal without drawing any suspicion from her. She frowned, sneaking a glance at the batarian standing over her, she was very sure that his visor played a part in his ability.

"Anything else?" she asked, annoyance seeping into her tone.

Drek didn't seem bothered by her attitude on the contrary it seemed to amuse him, even more. "No, that's all." He finished, with a curt nod, smile still intact, he turned to leave; the doors opened sensing his presence.

She stopped him. "I'll inform you, when the Illusive Man is ready to talk with you." She paused, "that is, if you don't hack into the mainframe to read the message yourself."

He laughed, but made no attempt to dismiss or deny that possibility, waving his hand in a mocking gesture of good-bye. "Thanks, Miss Lawson."

She was sure that smug batarian had enjoyed every moment of their short conversation. She locked the door from her terminal, as soon as the doors closed. She had had enough with guests, and didn't want to deal with any more interruptions. She leaned back in her seat, putting her head in her left hand, allowing her fingers to begin to apply a gentle massage to her forehead. She wanted to relieve the pressure and stress she felt building up behind her temple.

Now she was free of the batarian's insufferable presence. She felt her annoyance ebb, while her curiosity grew; silently wondering what was so urgent that required him to speak with the Illusive Man. She was positive it had to deal with Drek's information on the Batarian Hegemony and its Reaper experiments. She knew it was only a matter of time before Drek divulged this sensitive information to the Shepard and the rest of the squad.

She just had to wait. That didn't bother, Miranda, she was very patient. She knew that the information would be worth it.

* * *

><p>Miranda was fuming.<p>

_How could he do this?_

She couldn't believe Shepard allowed that bald harpy access to restricted Cerberus files. Not just allowed, but ordered her to retrieve the information that would be vital and beneficial for this convict known as Jack. It was humiliating. She was the Executive Officer on-board this vessel. She had better and more productive things to do than to help this psychopath sift through Cerberus intelligence.

She didn't know why the Illusive Man would want or allow someone on-board this ship who harbored such a deep seeded hatred and vendetta against Cerberus. It was a mistake. Miranda had a feeling that this 'Jack' could threaten their mission. She was too unpredictable. Her biotics coupled with no control of her emotions made her a ticking time bomb that threatened the safety of everyone on-board as well as the success of their mission to stop the Collectors.

They should've just left her on _the Purgatory._ The convict was dumb enough to first refuse to go on _the Normandy_ upon realizing that they were affiliated with Cerberus. If she'd rather go down with the crashing ship, Miranda had no problem in granting the convict's wish. Miranda had a half-mind to seek out Shepard and convince him that they should drop Jack off at the next planet they visit. She didn't care how impressive her biotics were supposed to be. To her, Jack was too much of a risk. However, what stopped her from seeking out Shepard immediately was that she already knew what his answer would be-No.

She trusted Shepard, but it was still frustrating for the proud Miranda Lawson. She was used to being in control. Even under cells when she had to report directly to the Illusive Man, such as the Lazarus Project. He trusted her judgment. He accepted her perspective. He welcomed her voice. She didn't seem to feel the same way with Shepard. As his XO, she should garner his respect or at the very least he should seek her council, hear her out, before making his decision.

He was too stubborn. He seemed set in his decisions, refusing to budge from them, no matter the information presented to him. He didn't look at the information. He looked at the person. He trusted his 'gut' over proven facts! Jack was the perfect example. Someone this crazy shouldn't be allowed around other people, or given free range onboard this vessel.

It made Miranda very annoyed.

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She took a few deep breaths, trying to push down the growing anger that was bubbling beneath. She was allowing her pride to control her. This wasn't her. This was the voice of the old-her. This was the aloof, Ice Queen of Cerberus.

She knew her relationship with Shepard would test her in ways she'd never been tested before. She understood that in order to see this through that she'd need to provide balance between her two distinct personalities. In order to protect herself and her relationship with Shepard, she'd need to retain her Ice Queen persona around the crew and squad. It was already proving to be more difficult than she initially thought.

The doors of her office opened with a_ swoosh. _She looked up to see the very person, whom her thoughts and frustrations had been centered on, walk in. She immediately recognized that something was wrong.

"Shepard, what is it?"

"The Collectors," he said, "We know where they're going to hit next."

She felt her breath hitch in her throat. She knew what a breakthrough this was. She also knew what it meant. This would be the first test between Shepard and them against the Collectors-Their first attempt at not just fighting them, but stopping them.

"Where?"

"Horizon."


	6. 5: Console

**We will Rise**

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Five: Console **

"Hold still, Shepard."

He grimaced at Dr. Chakwas' scolding. She was holding his chin between her thumb and forefinger, carefully examining his facial scars. As soon as their shuttle re-boarded _the Normandy_, Shepard was sent straight to Chakwas to look over his injuries. He suffered nothing serious, a few scrapes and burns from fighting the Collectors on Horizon.

Now _the Normandy_ doctor was simply looking over the scars he received from the Lazarus Project. She had been researching into methods in facial surgery that would remove them. She had a few promising leads. Every time he asked about them, she gave him the same reply, what once was patient and understanding, was beginning to take an exasperated edge_: "I need more time, Shepard."_

He looked up; over Chakwas' shoulder catching his reflection on the Med-Bay windows. His eyes instinctively went to the glowing scars that went up his neck, and covered parts of his cheek and chin. He hated those scars. It was an awful reminder of what happened to him that day. He turned away from his reflection, careful with his movement so he wouldn't earn another scolding from the good Doctor. He closed his eyes.

He saw flashes of fire. He heard echoes of screams. He felt pain tightening around his chest. He felt coldness creeping into his throat, spreading through him, until he was enveloped by an icy numbness. He heard grunts, cries of pain. He recognized that voice, it was his. Then there was darkness.

"Shepard!"

He snapped out of it. Opening his eyes, drawing deep breaths, he could feel his heart thundering beneath his ribs. "What? What is it?" He could see concern etched on her face.

"Your scars," she said weakly.

He turned back to the Med Bay windows to see what she was referring to. His eyes widened, at the reflection staring back at him. He looked past his own horrified expression, straight to his scars. They were glowing. The outlines and trimming of his scars that had begun to fade were now thriving in orange brightness.

"How is this possible?"

"I…I don't know, Shepard," she replied, dismayed at his scars.

Shepard ran a hand over his face, wiping away beads of sweat that were forming on his brow. He made a point, to look anywhere but the Med-Bay windows.

"What was it, Shepard?"

He turned to her. "Huh?"

"What were you thinking about?" she asked, meeting his curious eyes, he could see a hue of motherly concern shimmer beneath her eyes.

He let loose a breath. "The day I died."

She put her hand to her mouth, her eyes betraying her shock at his answer. "You…you can remember it?"

"Sometimes, I only get flashes…" He felt a lump forming in his throat, "but other times, it feels as vivid as this conversation."

"I'm…I'm so sorry," she said, sadness and pity creeping into her tone.

"Thanks," he said, sheepishly, he was touched by her sincerity but at the same time he didn't want to talk about it. It seemed Dr. Chakwas was able to get the message as well, his chin still in her grip. She gently turned his head to the side to further examine the scars that went up the left side of his face and neck. No doubt, the sudden burst of color had brought new concerns to _the Normandy_ doctor.

"I heard Lt. Alenko was down there."

"He was," he replied stiffly. He wasn't sure that this topic was any better than the former.

"So," she said awkwardly, "He won't be joining us?"

"No, he won't," Shepard answered, biting down on the annoyance that threatened to control his tone. He was aware of the friendship between Alenko and Chakwas.

"That's too bad."

Shepard pushed down the growing frustration bubbling within at the reminder of his conversation with Kaidan. He took Kaidan's words personally. His decision to side with the Alliance over Shepard, even after Kaidan had seen the Reapers and knew what they were capable of. To Shepard, that was unforgivable. "That's a matter of perspective, Doctor."

Chakwas frowned, tapping his chin, so that he would look at her, "Pardon?"

"I don't want people I can't trust on my side." The friendship he once had with Kaidan was fragmented and probably broken beyond repair.

"Shepard," she admonished him. She was taking his words personally. "Lt Alenko fought with us against Saren and the Reapers."

"Exactly," Shepard said, unable to hide his bitterness. "He knows what's at stake. He understands the threat the Reapers pose, and refused to acknowledge it."

"It's not that simple, Shepard," she pointed out, "you should understand that."

He scoffed, "he's a coward."

"Shepard," she instinctively squeezed her grip on his chin, causing him to wince at the painful pinch. Realizing her mistake, she immediately dropped her hand from his face.

He took a step back, away from her. He brought his hand to his chin where she had pinched him accidentally, trying his best to keep his temper under control, which was threatening to burst through his stoic demeanor.

"I'm sorry, Shepard," she apologized, "I didn't mean to. I was just…upset."

He waved off her apology. He was more annoyed at her insistence to defend Kaidan, than he was at the harmless pinch. "How do you think I feel?"

"He's your friend, Shepard," Chakwas pointed out.

Shepard shook his head, "no, not anymore." He didn't care if he sounded petulant. To Shepard, he could no longer trust Kaidan. He chose to support the Alliance and the Council, who both continued to deny the Reapers existence. Kaidan had seen Vigil on Ilos. He fought Saren on the Citadel. It was unacceptable. There was no excuse.

Chakwas sighed. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

"I'm not," he said, firmly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He tried to reel in his growing amount of anger. It was fueled by her willingness to defend him. Shepard liked Chakwas, so for her to actively and stubbornly defend an absent Kaidan over Shepard. It hurt him.

"Is there anything else, Doctor?"

She seemed to have more to say on the subject of Kaidan, but she restrained herself, shaking her head. "No, Shepard, that's all. You have a clean bill of health."

"Thanks, Doc," he smiled; knowing it probably looked a bit too forced.

She gave him a tired smile, "I'll continue to research your scars and a way to remove them."

He nodded his head, "Thanks, Doc, I appreciate it." With nothing more to be said, he left the Med Bay realizing that he may have let his emotions get the better of him. He was mad at Kaidan, not Chakwas. He allowed himself to take out his anger on her. It was unacceptable. It wasn't her fault, it was Kaidan's. She had nothing to do with what happened on Horizon. She wasn't responsible for his decision to side with the Alliance.

Shepard sighed, running a hand over his forehead. He made his way into the Mess Hall. He hoped that a good meal and a full stomach would serve as a suitable distraction for him to take his mind off of Horizon.

It was not just Kaidan, that had Shepard thinking, but of the Collector he came into contact with. He was able to identify that this was no Collector, but a Reaper who had the ability to possess any Collector it deemed fit. A tactic it did not bother to hide or flaunt during the battle, taking over more than a dozen different collector soldiers, throughout the battle.

Every time, Shepard and his squad were able to kill the collector it possessed, it simply moved onto another. It was not just that ability that disturbed Shepard. It was its ability to speak, referring to itself as Harbinger, and the knowledge it possessed, calling Shepard by name.

The fighting on Horizon was intense. The Collectors were unrelenting. They had to fight for every inch in hopes of stopping them, in hopes of saving the colonists. In the end, the Collectors escaped with a good portion of the Horizon population. Shepard considered it a win. While the Illusive Man tried to get more information on possible Collector targets or points of interest related to either the Collectors or the Reapers, Shepard would continue to build up his team…

"OW!" Joker's protest broke through Shepard's musings. He looked up to see the pilot was rubbing his arm, shooting a dark look at Mordin. _The Normandy_ pilot and the salarian scientist were receiving their meals from Gardener.

Shepard noticed that Mordin's attention wasn't on Joker, but a small chip which he then plugged into the tablet, he was holding.

"What was that for?" Joker demanded.

"Blood sample," Mordin answered casually, eyes never leaving the tablet screen.

Joker's reaction was comedic. His slack jaw, coupled with the wide eyed look he gave the salarian, as he tried to process Mordin's answer. "What-why do you need my blood?"

The two remained oblivious to Shepard's presence. Joker had taken his tray, and was gingerly walking over to the closest Mess Hall Table. Mordin was trailing _the Normandy_ pilot. His attention remained on his tablet which he had put on his tray along with his food.

"To study!" was the Scientist's enthusiastic reply. Mordin looked up from his tablet. "Informed of your condition. Very interesting. Must run tests for further study."

"I'm glad someone's enthusiastic about it," Joker grumbled, dropping his tray on the table. He tentatively sat down in the open seat, wincing slightly as he did. "I mean, don't you have more important things to study like the Collectors?"

Shepard knew that was true. Mordin had collected dozens of blood and tissue samples from various Collector corpses that they had encountered on Horizon. Not to mention, Mordin had also collected some samples of the husks for further studying.

"Multi-task," Mordin dismissed, with a wave of his hand. The salarian scientist took a seat across from Joker. His attention remained on his tablet, as the salarian began eating what looked to be eggs.

"Well, next time can you warn me before taking my blood?" asked a grumpy Joker, who was poking at his food. "I mean, what's next a probe?"

"No, probe not necessary," Mordin paused, looking up from his tablet. "Glad to know you're open to procedure."

Joker dropped his fork. "Wait-what?" he asked, not bothering to hide his fear and discomfort at Mordin's suggestion.

Mordin seemed oblivious to Joker's response. "Yes, yes," he bobbed his head up and down. "Will need to file appropriate requisition forms," he looked up from the table. "Several tools needed to implement invasive operation."

Joker raised his hands. "No, way am I going to allow you to probe me!" His astonished expression softened, as a look of realization came to the pilot. "Wait, you're joking right?"

"I'm a doctor," Mordin responded, his lips tugging upwards before continuing. "Never joke about such serious procedures."

"Yeah, yeah," Joker glowered, but his mood and tone were lighter, now knowing that the salarian was having him on.

"Commander Shepard!" greeted an enthusiastic Gardener, "heard what you did on Horizon! Good on ya! Those Collectors didn't stand a chance."

Shepard replied to the praise with a curt nod, the Mess Sergeant seemed to get the message, handing him his tray without another word. Shepard thanked him before going over to the Mess Hall table where Joker was eating. The Pilot was now alone. That didn't surprise him, since he knew Mordin liked to eat quickly before going back to the lab, sometimes even taking his food with him. The only sign that Mordin had been there was his tray and dirty plate.

"Mordin giving you problems?" Shepard asked, joining Joker at the table. He sat down across from the pilot, pushing Mordin's discarded tray aside so that he could sit.

"Oh?" Joker looked up from his food, "You heard that exchange?"

"I'm sure Engineer Daniels and Donnelly could've heard your complaining on Deck 4."

"Hah-hah, Commander," Joker said dryly, poking at the remainder of his food, which consisted of a pile of peas and carrots. Shepard had made sure to get good food provisions during their last trip to the Citadel. It seemed to be paying off, since the crew didn't seem to be griping as much.

He looked down at his tray to see he received a similar order of vegetables, a few slices of meat, and a piece of bread. He scooped up a spoonful of peas, taking a cautious bite, and was pleased at the acceptable taste. He took two more bites before Joker spoke again.

"It's strange."

"What is?" Shepard asked his attention on finishing up his peas. "That the grub here's not half bad?"

"No," Joker said, flustered, dropping his fork onto his tray.

Shepard was use to his friend being able to crack a joke or reply in turn to playful ribbing. Yet, watching him, Joker didn't at all seem like his normal self. "What's wrong, Joker?"

"You," Joker said, gesturing to Shepard with his hand, but refused to make eye contact with him. He kept his attention on his tray.

Shepard frowned. "What do you mean?"

Joker picked up his fork and began crushing the peas underneath his utensil. The pilot was unleashing his pent up frustration on his veggies. "Seeing you here in front of me, talking to me, acting like everything is normal and hunky-dory." He crushed another pea. "I mean…I mean I watched you die, Shepard." He crushed another. "Hell, it was my fault!"

"Don't talk like that, Joker," Shepard admonished him.

Joker didn't take any comfort in his words. "If I hadn't been so damn stubborn, you…you never would have died!"

"That's enough, Lt. Moreau," Shepard said in a clipped tone.

That got his attention. He blinked owlishly at Shepard. He was caught off guard at being called by his name. It was something that Shepard had never done. Shepard seized the advantage and took the initiative of the conversation.

"That stubbornness makes you the best damn pilot in the galaxy, Joker," Shepard told him. "It's that stubbornness that made you become a pilot." He was referring to Joker's condition and his desire to prove everyone wrong by being able to attend the Academy even though with his condition, it should've been impossible.

"Your stubbornness was the reason I was able to land the Mako on Ilos," he reminded his friend. He could see his words were beginning to sink in. "It's your stubbornness that helped us stop Saren and the geth fleet."

"I…I guess, I didn't think of it that way."

"Well do, and know this Joker, I don't hold you responsible, for what happened," Shepard stopped, remembering the brief, but vivid memories of the attack on _the Normandy_ that came to him at the Med-Bay just minutes ago. He pushed them back down and continued. "It wasn't your fault. It was the Collectors, so remember that next time, we meet up with them."

"Yeah, Commander, you're right," Joker said, looking revitalized. "And don't worry, Shepard. I won't forget, because I gotta get revenge on what those bastards did to the first Normandy."

"And to your commander," Shepard added, dryly.

"Oh yeah," Joker said, having the good sense to look abashed. He gave a nervous chuckle before adding, "That too."

Shepard smiled, pleased at seeing that Joker looked like he'd be able to move forward. Satisfied, he turned his attention back on his food, using his fork and knife to cut up the thin slivers of meat. He took a bite, pleased at the almost beef-like taste that now filled the inside of his mouth.

"So about Kaidan, Commander?"

"I don't want to talk about him, Joker," Shepard warned, before taking another bite.

"Hey, hey, that's fine with me," Joker said, holding up his hands to show him he meant no harm. "So you see the new Blasto movie?"

"You mean Blasto 2?"

"Geez, Shepard, where have you been?" asked an offended Joker. "We're up to Blasto 4."

"I was dead, remember," Shepard deadpanned.

Joker made a face. "When are you going to stop using that excuse?"

Shepard was glad to see that Joker had recovered his sense of humor. He cracked a smile, but concealed his amusement; by wiping his mouth with his napkin, before standing up, having finished his meal. "Good-bye, Joker."

"Hey come on," the pilot called after him. "No need to be grumpy, Shepard."

Shepard ignored him, returning his tray to Gardener, who took it with a smile and a nod, as Shepard turned back towards the pilot to make his way towards the elevator.

"Hey, we still need a destination, Shepard," Joker said, "Unless you were planning on just having us drift through the Traverse?"

"I'll let you know, Joker," Shepard replied, "don't forget to eat your veggies." He allowed himself a chuckle upon hearing the pilot's groan. He left the Mess Hall, going to the elevator, pressing the call button.

While he waited, he silently wondered if he'd have a chance to rent and watch Blasto 3 and 4…

* * *

><p>Shepard didn't have to search long in his attempt at trying to locate Drek. He found the former Blue Suns mercenary in the Hangar on deck 5. Like usual, he was alone. With Shepard's permission, he had cornered off a portion of the hangar, to serve as Drek's private chambers. There was little privacy and the area was cramped, but the batarian didn't complain.<p>

Stepping closer, Shepard was able to study Drek's corner, his terminals were set up caddy-cornered, while his work bench was to his terminal's immediate right, and a small cot to his left. There were a few crates stacked up on the other side of the cot, and a chair across from the terminals. Drek had his back to Shepard working at his workbench.

"Drek," Shepard greeted, "Do you mind if we talk for a few minutes?"

"Sure," he answered.

There was nowhere for him to sit, so Shepard remained standing. He was able to see that Drek was working on his omni-tool.

"I'm adding some upgrades," Drek remarked, sensing Shepard's stare.

"Oh?" Shepard asked, silently unsure if that was even necessary. He had seen its capabilities on Horizon, and wasn't sure it could be any more effective or proficient. "What sort of upgrades?"

"I want to increase my incendiary output," he answered, "With this upgrade it should easily burn through those Collector shields."

That was good news. He remembered the potency of those shields. They were able to absorb a multitude of damage from Shepard and his squad-mates through the fighting on Horizon. Not to mention, the special shields that this Harbinger had equipped to any Collector it possessed.

Drek's omni-tool's glow dissipated slightly, looking satisfied, he turned towards Shepard for the first time. His four eyes studying him closely and the Commander was sure the batarian looked pensive. He pointed to him, "Ya know, Shepard, you could've used a better omni-tool, while we were down there."

Shepard had to admit Drek made a valid point. By the end of the battle, he'd run out of clips for his assault rifle and his shotgun, forcing him to rely on his pistol and hand-cannon. They were effective weapons, but had their flaws. They were exposed when he went up against Scions and Praetorians. These were two of the Collectors' newest weapons that had been revealed to Shepard and his squad during the last bit of fighting on Horizon. It would be useful if he was able to have a solid backup, such as an omni-tool with some combat programming.

Shepard had seen Drek's full arsenal on display at Horizon and Korlus-The incendiary, the over-load, the ability to perform stealth and summon a VI drone to lend assistance. It was an impressive sight. At times during those battles and skirmishes, Drek didn't even need to fire a shot. He was able to control and manipulate the battlefield by the access of his omni-tool.

However, Shepard was quick to admit that he didn't possess Drek's tech skills. He couldn't recall using an omni-tool in battle since he was back at the academy during combat training. That had only covered the basics. He was never tech savvy enough to advance into the engineer or the infiltrator programs that the Alliance offered.

"What did you have in mind?"

"The basics," Drek answered, "I can install incendiary, a VI drone, even the omni-blade."

That got Shepard's attention, "The omni-blade?"

Drek must have noticed too. He stepped forward while gesturing to Shepard to take a few steps back for precaution. The Spectre obeyed, curious with what the batarian was referring to. Drek raised his right arm, and as he did, Shepard watched an orange glow wrap around his forearm, before forming a blade starting at his wrist that was long and as sharp as a small sword.

"This is an omni-blade." Drek took a few practice swings and Shepard could hear the blade give off a slight hum as it sliced through the air. "It's very effective, in close range combat."

"I bet," Shepard whistled, unable to deny that this weapon would easily come in handy during melee combat against the husks. "And you can install that onto my omni-tool?"

"Yeah," Drek answered with a shrug, "not much of a challenge."

"No, I suppose not for an engineer of your skill."

Drek smirked, "don't ya forget it, Shepard."

"I'd need it back in time for our next mission," Shepard pointed out. Though, he didn't really know when that would be, or even where that would be.

"Like I said, Shepard," Drek reminded him. "It will be easy."

Shepard looked down at his omni-tool, before unfastening it off of his wrist. "I can trust you, right?"

"If you mean, am I going to hack into your files?" Drek asked, "Then don't worry, because I don't need your omni-tool to do that."

"That's very comforting," Shepard deadpanned, handing over his omni-tool to Drek, whose lips crooked into a smile, as he took the omni-tool, before placing it on his workbench.

"I thought you'd respect my honesty," Drek put in.

"It's hard not to," Shepard replied, dryly. He wasn't sure if he should leave the engineer in peace or stay. He chose the latter, because he sensed this as his best opportunity to try to better get to know the former Blue Suns mercenary.

"So what's your story, Drek?"

Drek stiffened, "no story, Shepard, just me."

_Off to a good start, _Shepard mused at the resistance he was met with. It was nothing he wasn't use to, remembering back to his first conversations with Wrex, many of them starting and ending with only an exchange of names:

"_Shepard."_

"_Wrex." _

In time, he was able to get Wrex to open up, and the two were able to form a solid friendship. By Ilos, Shepard wasn't sure he would want anyone else by his side when he confronted Saren, besides Wrex and Garrus. In time, Shepard believed he could get a similar rapport with Drek. However, he also understood that sometimes the best way to get someone to open up was to go first.

"I can tell you about me," he said, seeing he had Drek's attention. "Anything you want to know."

"Is that right?" asked Drek, not able to keep the curiosity out of his tone.

"Yep," Shepard answered, silently pleased that Drek seemed keen on this exchange. "What do you want to know?"

"Just like that?" asked a suspicious Drek.

"Just like that," affirmed Shepard, snapping his fingers to further prove his point.

"Okay, Shepard," Drek said, scratching his chin, his four eyes resting on the Commander. "I'll play along."

"The Council?"

"What about them?" asked Shepard, he'd been expecting Drek to bring up Elysium or Torfan, not the Council.

"Did you really abandon them?"

"A Council can be replaced," Shepard pointed out. "The people who fill the seats are not what's important, it's the symbol that the Council represents. They can be replaced."

"Cold Shepard, that's real cold," Drek said, shaking his head.

"Sometimes, you need to be a little ruthless," Shepard observed. "When the Reapers come, Drek, there's going to have to be sacrifices." He looked to see he had Drek's attention; he did, so he continued. "Sometimes you'll need to sacrifice one planet to save another or sacrifice a system to save another system. There's no getting around that."

Drek looked to be mulling over that cold realization. "You can do that?"

"I'm going to have to."

Drek took a seat on the foot of his cot, gesturing Shepard to take the empty chair in front of his terminals. Shepard acquiesced, sitting down, he could see that Drek was still thinking on his previous statement about the Reaper invasion and what needed to be done, in order to stop them.

"In order to stop the Reapers, we're going to need every species working together to even have a chance."

"Even the batarians?"

Shepard made a point to meet Drek's stare, "especially the batarians."

Drek snorted, "Sorry, Shepard, I can't see the day when our people will work together."

"When dozens of Reaper ships begin to orbit Khar'shan and Earth, our little feud is going to look very silly."

"You may have a point," Drek conceded.

"I mean here we are," Shepard said, gesturing to Drek and then himself. "Who would've thought we'd end up fighting on the same side."

"That's true, Shepard," Drek admitted, "still it makes you think."

"About?" asked Shepard.

"Nothing," he answered, brusquely, he ran a hand over his face, "It was a long time ago, Shepard. I don't want to bore you."

Shepard stretched his arms over his head, before settling himself into a comfortable slouching position on the chair, "Don't worry, Drek, if you start boring me, I'll tell you."

"Fair enough, Shepard," he agreed. "I was just thinking back on my life."

"Anything particular?"

"Yeah," answered Drek, annoyance creeping into his tone, but it didn't seem directed at Shepard, but at himself. "Even though, it shouldn't be."

"When I was starting out as a mercenary for the Blue Suns, I met this asari dancer on Omega," Drek explained, a wistful expression settled over his expression. "I'm sure you know what asari are like, Shepard."

"I do," Shepard answered honestly; picking up at what Drek was referring to-the sex.

"It was only casual," he explained, "I mean, I was young. I just wanted to have a good time."

"So what happened?"

"One night she told me…she told me she wanted to have a child," Drek said, "my child! I dismissed her, I didn't want children, I mean I was a mercenary and she was a dancer. And, I wasn't interested in having a daughter."

Shepard picked up on how he used the word daughter. It was used as a derogatory term in describing asari off-spring. "You mean an asari daughter?"

"Yeah, that's right," Drek said, not looking or the sounding the least bit ashamed at holding a bigoted view on them. "Asari are for fucking, Shepard, not for settling down with."

"So what happened?"

"I had to leave Omega for a few months. I was helping set up a new Blue Suns base. I was there for nearly a year, and when I was finally given some time off, I returned to Omega, and… and there she was with that…that child."

He could hear the disgust in Drek's voice when he referred to them. "You mean, your child."

"It wasn't my child, Shepard!" Drek growled, "It was an asari, Shepard! That's not my child! The bitch had gone off and gotten pregnant anyways." He slammed his fists into the cot, "Stupid bitch thought I'd change my mind when I met the thing."

"Your daughter," Shepard corrected Drek, sensing that his hostility was directed at both the asari mother and child.

"It wasn't my daughter, Shepard."

"So you abandoned them?"

"The bitch deserved it," Drek said, unapologetically. "For being so stupid into believing, I'd actually change my mind, for thinking, I'd want some asari kid!"

"So you haven't seen them?"

"In five years," Drek answered, "And I'd be happy if I didn't see her for another fifty."

"And your child?"

"Get this through your fucking skull, Shepard. This wasn't my child. It wasn't batarian, it was…asari."

"I see," Shepard said, unsure what else to say on the matter. He was aware of similar stories of aliens not being interested in mating with asari because they were uncomfortable or didn't like the concept of them only reproducing asari daughters. To them, it was unnatural, and they honestly didn't believe that an asari child could be related to them if they were of a different species such as batarian or turian or human or salarian.

He watched Drek push himself off of his cot. It was clear to Shepard this was a topic they shouldn't linger on. "So then why join up with Cerberus?"

"Remember what I said about my brother?"

Shepard stretched out his legs, recalling his first conversation with Drek on-board _the Normandy_ and the scant details he revealed on his brother. "Yeah, he was a scientist working for the Hegemony."

"Yeah, that's right," Drek nodded, still holding onto his earlier hostility, "Two years ago, while on Omega he saw the vids covering the battle of the Citadel, and what everyone was calling a Geth dreadnought, he knew better."

Shepard straightened up. "He recognized it as a Reaper."

"Yeah, that's right, Shepard." Drek shook his head. "My brother was always the idealist. He went back to Khar'shan telling them what he saw, imploring them to share what we've learned from the Leviathan with the rest of the galaxy."

"They didn't want to share, I take it."

"That's putting it mildly, Shepard." Drek stopped his pacing. He ran his hands over his head. "They didn't want to share with the Council species. They're the ones who sided with you! This was our advantage, where you guys were unprepared, Khar'shan would be prepared if more of these things came after us."

"And your brother?" Shepard already knew the answer.

"Killed, of course, The Hegemony couldn't afford word to get out of what they possessed."

"How did you get involved?"

"My brother may have been an idealist, but he wasn't stupid," Drek paused, a smile tugging at his lips when he turned to face Shepard. "He sent me encrypted files of everything he knew and studied. I was still with the Blue Suns, at the time."

"And Cerberus?" Shepard asked, not knowing how the human organization fit into this story.

"For a while, nothing," Drek shrugged, "I was trying to decrypt the files, trying to make sense of this Leviathan project that the Hegemony was running secretly."

"So what changed?"

"We caught a Cerberus informant inside our ranks."

"Within the Blue Suns?"

Drek nodded, "I was responsible for getting information out of him. In our sessions, the informant talked openly about the Reapers and the greater threat they posed to the galaxy." He paused, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. "At first, I thought he was lying, but after doing some research, I realized he wasn't."

Shepard rubbed his chin, in thought, "You were able to realize the similarities between Sovereign and the Leviathan?"

"That's right, Shepard," he answered. "I then learned that the only people in the galaxy who were doing anything to combat the threat was Cerberus."

Shepard didn't doubt that. His limited interactions with the Council were enough for him to realize that they and the Alliance weren't doing anything to prepare or to combat the eventual Reaper threat.

"I was able to hack the basics of the Cerberus code and was then able to ascertain who his contact was," Drek explained, matter-of-factly.

Shepard knew those Cerberus codes were probably very difficult to decipher, but listening to Drek talk about it, you'd think he was talking about something as mundane as a simple password protection used to retrieve your basic extra-net email. "So you met with his contact?"

"Yeah, I set up a meeting, pretending to be the informant."

"I'm sure that went over well," Shepard mused, unable to fight the smile that came to his lips at the image of a perplexed Cerberus agent meeting Drek, a batarian instead of his contact.

Drek sensed the humor as well. "That's putting it mildly, Shepard." His lips twitched into a smile, before continuing, "So after I disarmed him, I told him I had information about the Reapers."

"He believed you, just like that?"

"I showed him a glimpse of what I had uncovered," Drek answered, "That was more than enough for him to grant me an audience with the Illusive Man."

In Shepard's limited dealings with the Illusive Man, he understood that he coveted information and liked to keep much of it as close to the chest as possible. So for him to be told about this Leviathan must have caught his attention. "So how did that go?"

"He was surprisingly hospitable," Drek answered, not bothering to hide his surprise at that revelation. It was clear the batarian was expecting something very different, like a raving zealot, then the calm, and coolly collected Illusive Man. "We were able to come to an understanding. I'd sell him the information I had now, and then as I continued to decrypt the files, I'd pass them his way."

"Sounds reasonable," Shepard admitted.

"It was," Drek agreed, again revealing his own surprise that he got such a fair deal with the head of Cerberus, a known terror organization that emphasized human strength. "He then offered me a position to be his new informant against the Blue Suns."

_It made sense, _Shepard concluded, knowing that the Blue Suns would never suspect a batarian as an informant for a supposedly 'pro-human' organization. "So what happened to the other informant?"

"I killed him," Drek answered casually. "I've been working for Cerberus ever since."

Shepard put his arms on his knees, resting his head in his hands as he reflected on everything Drek had told him. There were still certain things that remained unexplained. His mind going back to these files that Drek have referenced several times in his story, but not once tried to divulge what that information contained. He knew that those files must be very important, and could very well help them in their fight against the Reapers.

"And what were in those files?"

Drek walked over to the terminals, beginning to type up on the keyboard.

Intrigued, Shepard pushed himself up from his chair, looking over the batarian's shoulder in trying to see the terminal screen. He was hoping for schematics or pictures or stories, but it was only a layout of numbers.

"As you can see," Drek said, over his shoulder, "I'm still slowly piecing it together. Everything I've told you, I learned from these files, but there's still a lot more to go through. My brother was very good at encryptions."

"He must've been," Shepard said, having already witnessed how easy Drek had deciphered numerous Blue Suns and Cerberus encryptions.

"Where do you think I learned it from?" Drek asked his tone wistful.

He remembered Miranda telling him about Drek's meeting with her. "You needed to speak with the Illusive Man."

"That's right," Drek said, punching a few buttons on the keyboard and the terminal screens went dark. "I may have uncovered something in my research, but I'm not sure."

Shepard took a step back to give Drek his space, "what is it?"

Drek sighed, returning to his workbench. "I'm sorry, Shepard, I can't tell you, not yet." He picked up Shepard's omni-tool, examining it. "However, I have a feeling that sooner or later we're going to have a more active role in finding out what experiments and studies the Hegemony is conducting."

Shepard frowned, disappointed that Drek wasn't divulging any information, but he was pretty sure that the batarian was following direct orders from the Illusive Man. Regardless; it still gave the Commander a lot to think about. He was beginning to think that it wasn't a matter of if, but when for his crew to investigate this Reaper enigma known as the Leviathan…

* * *

><p>"So where to next, Shepard?"<p>

Shepard was in his cabin. He was sitting at the edge of his bed. Garrus was sitting on one of Shepard's sofas, while Miranda leaned against his fish tank. It was the turian who asked the question. The three of them had been looking through dossiers for the last two hours. The tablets of the various recruitable companions were scattered throughout the room. It was an exhausting researching process. Not to mention, there was a burden and a pressure added after the Collector battle on Horizon.

Shepard was silently pleased with how Miranda and Garrus were interacting. He was anxious about how the two would get along. Knowing there was still bad blood between them due to the incident during Shepard's chase of Saren, where he and his squad had responded to a Cerberus distress call. He remembered the truce the two told him about before they recruited Drek, but if Shepard was honest, he wasn't very confident that it would hold up. Yet now, the truce was holding strong. They were still far from being friends, but he detected that the two had formed a level of respect for the other.

Shepard was tempted to fall back onto his bed. He was very tired. It had been an exhausting day. "I don't know."

"What about the Justicar?" Miranda suggested.

"No," he dismissed the suggestion.

She raised a dark eye brow. She seemed to sense the hostility that had crept into his tone. It wasn't directed at her, but at the Justicar, "Why not?"

"I don't trust her," he answered.

This time it wasn't Miranda, but Garrus who asked the question. "What do you mean?"

He scooped the tablet that contained on her dossier on his bed. "I did some research into them." He held the tablet up as proof to the others. "They follow this code and swear very restricted oaths of conduct, held to a different value of morals." He pushed himself off of his bed, waving the tablet as he continued. "I have a feeling Cerberus' dealings will find ourselves on the opposing side of this Justicar."

"That's very possible," admitted Miranda. "She could make an exception, with the fate of the galaxy at stake."

He handed Miranda the tablet, feeling her fingers brush up against his. He looked up to see the corners of her lips twitch. Knowing that Garrus was in the room, sadly limited his response. He very much wanted to kiss her, but settled for returning her smile before turning away.

"It's unlikely," Shepard said, responding to Miranda's previous observation. "She is governed by rules. I don't think it gives us a lot of wiggle-room."

"Then what about Tali?" Garrus propped his legs on Shepard's table.

"I…I don't think so," Shepard dismissed, making sure not to meet Garrus' inquisitive stare.

"Is it because it's a Suicide Mission?" guessed Miranda, understanding in her voice.

Shepard paced in front of his bed. "No, that's not it."

"Tali would be very upset if she found out that you didn't want her," Garrus bluntly putting in his two cents.

"She's helping her people," Shepard quickly replied, hoping the excuse would stand up to Garrus' growing scrutiny. It didn't.

"That's bullshit, Shepard."

That got Shepard's attention, stopping in his pacing and turning to his turian friend. Garrus' small blue eyes fixed on him, resembling a raptor's like glare.

Shepard sighed, his chest tightening in fear at the thought that was gnawing at the back of his mind-_What if she said no? _He considered Tali one of his closest friends, along with Garrus, Wrex, and Miranda. She was the younger sister, he'd never had. He remembered her reaction to him at Freedom's Progress. Of course she hugged him, told him how much she missed him.

Yet, when she found out he was with Cerberus, he immediately noticed a change in posture. He detected it in her tone. She was vocal in her dislike of his choice. He wasn't sure she'd want to join him, now that he was working with Cerberus. It was very likely, she'd say no. He'd rather not experience that pain. It was easier for him to simply move on.

"Shepard, what is it?" Miranda asked, concern crept into her tone.

"She…she could say no."

"Tali wouldn't say no!" Garrus argued, sounding cross between upset and offended at the mere suggestion.

Shepard crossed his arms, over his chest, meeting Garrus' stare. "Kaidan did."

Garrus' anger visibly deflated at that reminder, a look of understanding came to his expression. "Shepard," Garrus began gently…

Shepard didn't let him finish. "I want Tali, Garrus, but… but if she said no."

"She wouldn't, Shepard."

It wasn't Garrus who had spoken. Leading them both to turn to Miranda Lawson, she had been the defending voice. Garrus looked as shocked as Shepard felt at her being the one to step forward and voice her confidence in Tali joining them.

Shepard wasn't sure whether he should respond or not. He knew that he couldn't get them to understand. He knew he couldn't get them to feel his fear. To save himself from further arguing, he mollified the pair. "According to her dossier she's still deep in Geth space, let's look at another companion, after we recruit them, we'll look back at Tali."

"We'll recruit Tali," Garrus corrected him.

Shepard ignored it. "Who does that leave us?"

"We could try the assassin," Miranda put in.

"He's on Illium, right?" Shepard asked.

"That's right," Miranda nodded, she picked up the tablet from Shepard's desk. "Thane Krios was last seen on Illium."

"Last seen?" Shepard frowned, "So we don't know where he is?"

"We could get Liara to help us," Garrus offered, "I'm sure she could find him."

_That made sense, _Shepard thought, knowing Liara was now an information broker. She was sure to have information or have the ability or power to get the information they needed in trying to recruit this elusive assassin. "Then it's settled, we're going to Illium."

Garrus got off the couch, stretching as he did, "It'll be good to see Liara again."

"Still pining over her?" Shepard smirked. Remembering how his turian friend had gotten very tongue tied around the asari archeologist on more than one occasion. Not to mention, him staring in her direction on quite a few of their mission meetings.

That got Garrus' attention, he was trying to step between the couch and the table, but when Shepard spoke, the turian tripped over his feet, nearly falling on his face, but he was able to catch himself, straightening up to his full height when he turned to Shepard, "I do not."

Shepard's smirk only grew, "yes, you do."

Garrus huffed. "I do not."

"Oh?" Shepard challenged, "Then what about all those times you were ogling her during our missions."

"I…I was admiring her assets to our squad," was Garrus' weak reply.

"And what **assets** were those, buddy?" Shepard asked, innocently, making sure to emphasize the word asset.

"I'm going to go alert Joker of our destination," Miranda announced, interrupting Shepard's teasing, and for the moment providing Garrus a much needed reprieve.

Shepard was sure he saw a hint of amusement flicker in her eyes coupled with a ghost of a smile on her lips, before she rolled her eyes and went towards the elevator.

"Thanks," he called after her. She waved back before he turned his attention back to Garrus, who was looking a bit flustered.

"Are you blushing, Garrus?"

"Ha-ha, very funny, Shepard," Garrus said dryly. His talons scratched across his head-crest. "Now if you excuse me, I think I have to recalibrate our cannons."

"Uh-huh," Shepard said, not believing that lame excuse. He then remembered a particular story Garrus had told him before, he couldn't help but add. "You know Garrus, I'm sure Liara would certainly have the flexibility."

Garrus' steps faltered for a second, signaling he got the reference before continuing towards the door. Shepard followed him, "Ya know, Garrus, women dig scars."

Garrus' talons instinctively went to the facial scars he received back on Omega.

"I mean, you took a rocket to the face, Garrus," Shepard added. "What woman wouldn't like that?"

Garrus' mandibles twitched, his talons dragging across his facial scars, his small blue eyes looked lost in thought.

"The elevator is here, Garrus."

"I knew that," he replied, hastily retreating inside the elevator for sanctuary from Shepard's teasing.

Shepard couldn't stop himself from smiling at his friend's discomfort, knowing he'd been on the receiving end of Garrus' teasing often enough. It felt good to be on the other end for a change. "If that fails just tell her you're Archangel."

Garrus put his hand on the door to stop it from closing. "How would that help me?"

"Ladies love vigilantes," Shepard answered, seeing Garrus' thoughtful expression while he mulled over his answer, coupled with Garrus' curiosity and how he didn't try to deny his interest at Shepard's last tease caused the Commander and first human Spectre to laugh once the doors slid closed. He made his way back into his cabin, thinking on their trip to Illium.

_Oh yes, this should be very interesting._


	7. 6: Purpose

**We will Rise**

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Six: Purpose**

_Illium, Humanity could learn a lot from asari ingenuity…_

Miranda marveled at the beautiful asari architecture. Its skyline coupled with the dusk of the planet's sun nestling behind it, provided a picturesque view. It was a breathtaking sight to behold. She'd visited the planet more than a dozen times, but it never dulled her to the beauty that the planet offered.

"Need a little help there, Shepard?" Garrus asked, mirth evident in his voice.

"I got it," was Shepard's irritable reply

"All you have to do is say please," Garrus replied, sweetly.

She turned to see the others who she was with, weren't awed by the architecture like she was. They weren't even looking at it. Flanked by Garrus and Drek, Shepard's attention was on his omni-tool as were the others who were watching Shepard as he tried to snap his omni-tool back into place on his wrist.

"Damn, Shepard," Drek said, watching Shepard continue to fumble with fastening his omni-tool. "And they made you a Spectre."

Miranda rolled her eyes. She was aware of Drek having upgraded Shepard's omni-tool, yet watching the Commander unable to put it back on, caused her to muse that perhaps it had been a waste of the batarian's time. Since his upgrades couldn't be appreciated if Shepard couldn't even put on the omni-tool.

"Aha!" Shepard said, at-last, flashing a triumphant smile as the orange glow enveloped his forearm.

"Five minutes, Shepard," Garrus proclaimed, looking down at his omni-tool. He flashed it to the others to show them it was on stop watch mode and had been recording Shepard. "That's a new record."

"Very funny, Garrus," Shepard replied, holding up his arm to show off his upgraded omni-tool.

"Careful, Shepard," Drek warned, looking warily at the Spectre.

"Don't worry, Drek," Shepard said, waving off his concern. "I know what I'm doing." He pushed a button on his omni-tool. Suddenly a wisp of flames sprouted from his omni-tool causing Garrus to duck, Shepard to curse and Drek to shout as the incendiary blast smashed into a terminal that was mounted on the wall. Flames and sparks spat in all directions as the frame of the terminal crashed into the ground, smoldering.

Shepard was no longer smiling. His blue eyes wide in shock going from the scorched mark on the wall, to the smoldering ruins of the terminal and then back to his omni-tool, which he was looking at as if he'd never seen it before in his life.

Miranda had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

"Whoops," Shepard said, sheepishly.

Garrus who had been in the line of fire, had ducked to avoid being hit. He stood back up, dusting himself off, while he shook his head, not bothering to hide his amusement. "That was real smooth, Shepard."

"Perhaps, you should read the instruction manual first, Shepard," Drek put in dryly, patting Shepard on the shoulder.

"Too bad, the Collectors don't have terminals you could fight, Shepard," Garrus joked.

"It was an accident," Shepard frowned, dropping his arm which held his omni-tool. "I mean, next time I won't do that."

"That's what we're afraid of," Miranda drawled. All eyes turned to her. It seemed the three men had forgotten about her presence after Shepard's omni-tool debacle. Garrus and Drek laughed at this observation.

"She has a point, Shepard," Drek admitted, in-between his laughter.

Garrus wagged his finger at him, "yeah, Shepard this isn't a toy."

"Come on," Shepard said, walking off.

"Good idea, Shepard," Garrus called after him. "There's plenty more of those dangerous terminals lurking about."

* * *

><p>The Illium market offered some of the best merchandise offered by both the Traverse System and Council space. Weapons, tech, armor, upgrades, exotic clothes, animals, everything that you could find in the galaxy could be bought at the Illium market. All you had to do was pay the hefty price tag.<p>

Miranda Lawson was passing these booths one by one. She looked up to see that Drek had led Shepard to one of the tech experts. It became clear with Shepard's little omni-tool accident that he needed some help in learning how to better control and use his newly upgraded omni-tool. Garrus was off to the side at one of the weapon booths, no doubt perusing through rifle upgrades.

She had been lazily looking at some fish with no real interest in making any purchases. She didn't even have a fish tank, and she certainly wasn't going to give the fish to Shepard. She wasn't that cruel. Knowing that the previous fish he bought at the Citadel were last seen floating at the top of his tank. It seemed Shepard forgot the basics of pet-care. You had to feed your pets if you wanted them to live.

Miranda went over to the next booth. She idly listened to an asari and turian couple discussing the best souvenir to get to commemorate their trip to Illium. She should've pointed out that with all the wonders of Illium, that a souvenir ship seemed the least appropriate choice. Off the top of her head, she could think of a dozen better ideas than a model ship…

She shied away from the over-eager human salesman who was trying to get her attention. He looked no older than twenty. He was thin with a tan complexion. His face was smacked with freckles, his eyes were brown and his hair was short and dark.

"Hello beautiful," he said, in what he thought was a flattering tone, but made Miranda want to cringe.

She stopped. She was use to getting this sort of unwanted attention, because of her appearance it was very difficult for her to blend in. She was often singled out. The target of unfriendly eyes wherever she went. Her first instinct was to direct a biotic warp at him, she reluctantly pushed down that thought. She then got a rather more tempting and mischievous idea, concealing her smile and amusement in realizing it may be more amusing to play along then to warp him. So she stopped and turned to face him.

He flashed her a smile, "I'm sure a lovely lady like yourself could use some of my merchandise."

She gave him a girlish giggle, which she had perfected over the years during her undercover work as an Operative. "Do you really think I'm lovely?"

It worked. The young man looking rather pleased with himself, ran a hand through his hair, "Of course." He said, holding out his arm for her to take. She did, as he led her back over to his booth which contained mostly model ships.

"I got something real special," he said, in a near conspiratorial whisper.

She recognized this sale's tactic at once. He was trying to emphasize his product while also signaling her out in having her believe that he was doing her a real favor. "Really?" she asked, playing the star-struck and naive customer.

He nodded his smile intact before he rummaged through his goods. "I have here, the Alliance's proudest ship." He said, picking up the box, "The SSV Normandy!"

Miranda had to stifle a laugh, turning it instead into a feigning gasp.

"That's right," he said, waving the box over his head, as if trying to demonstrate the model could burst out of the box and take flight. "This was the ship that led the Fifth Fleet in the Battle of the Citadel."

"It looked bigger on the vids," Miranda pointed out, playing up the ditzy tourist.

The young salesman's smile faltered, but only for a second before he chuckled, "This is just the model."

_This was too amusing,_ Miranda thought, realizing that she had made the better choice to play along than simply hitting him with a biotic warp.

He seemed to mistake her silence as him slipping on his deal, "You know I'm not supposed to do this, but it's yours for only three hundred credits."

"Really?" she repeated, sounding astonished at the concept of that being a good deal.

He waggled his brows, "I know a real bargain."

There was a small part of her that thought she should buy the model, she was sure Shepard and Joker would get a real kick out of it. Speaking of Shepard, she looked up to see the first human Spectre was still with Drek, a bored look on his face as the batarian and a volus seemed to be lecturing him about the finer points of the omni-tool. He must have sensed her stare, since he looked up and smiled at her when their eyes met.

While as the salesman's smile made her want to cringe. Shepard's smile brought warmth to her chest, and a soothing happiness that seemed to envelop her. It was a new feeling for her, and one that she had no qualms getting used to.

"That your boyfriend?"

She could detect the jealousy in his tone. She turned to see he was no longer smiling. _He actually thought he had a chance,_ she mused.

The realization alone was enough to make her want to laugh, but she restrained herself. She instead, placed the credit on her wonderfully portrayed role as the 'ditzy tourist.'

"That's right," she replied, matter-of-factly. "He's real famous ya know." She gave a frivolous wave of her hand.

"Oh?" he asked, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "What did he do?"

She pulled at a few loose tresses of her dark hair that was resting on her shoulders before snapping her fingers suddenly as if just remembering, "He went up against Saren and the geth fleet," she said casually. "Ya know in the Battle of the Citadel?"

The salesman's look was priceless. His jaw hanging open, while his eyes widened to saucers. His head swiveled over to Shepard's direction and then to her, and then back to Shepard. She could see the wheels turning in his head, as he processed her information, in realizing who that meant her boyfriend had to be.

"In a ship that looked just like this one," she said, pointing to the model-Normandy. "On second thought, I think I will take that model ship." She smiled, "I'm sure he'd like the reminder." She deposited the credits into the store account with her omni-tool before snatching up the box from the dumbstruck salesman. She walked away without a second look.

She hadn't taken a few steps before she realized that she had actually admitted to being Shepard's girlfriend. Yet, there was no annoyance at her slip up. She didn't feel any dread bubbling within at their secret being exposed. She doubted anyone would listen or even believe that salesman. She instead couldn't help but smile, realizing that it felt very good to have admitted to being his girlfriend. The Ice Queen of Cerberus, who was supposed to be beyond mere feelings and emotions, couldn't deny the warmth and happiness she felt thinking back on the admission.

"I could buy a ship for that price!"

She snapped out of her reverie, her smile erased as she instinctively slipped on her frosty demeanor before assessing the voice and scene. It belonged to Garrus. He was haggling with the asari merchant, and it seemed he was losing.

"You wanted the best," replied, the asari saleswoman snidely. "This is the best."

She wasn't friends with Garrus Vakarian. She wasn't even that particular friendly with the turian, but seeing him get ripped off, didn't seem acceptable for Miranda Lawson. She stepped forward to see the listed price for the new rifle that Garrus was eying. She had to agree with him, the price was incredibly high.

She had experienced the merchants of Illium before. She was aware at how greedy and nasty they could become. This asari seemed no different. Miranda knew that the only thing these merchants feared was loss of business. But it wasn't one customer that bothered them, but the potential to losing expensive clientele. Forming an idea was the easy part for Miranda Lawson. It was hoping that Garrus didn't blow it that made up the hard part.

"That's okay, Garrus." She said, slipping into the role of comforting friend. She patted him on the shoulder, silently hoping he'd understand what she was doing and play along. He looked at her strangely, but only for a second, before realization dawned on him, taking her comfort as if they'd been friends for years.

"Azra has that same rifle for half price," Miranda pointed out.

The asari saleswoman snorted, challenging their bluff, as she put her hands on her hips, "Oh really?"

"Come on," she said, steering Garrus away, hoping the turian would keep his mouth shut and let her work. "I'm sure Mister Stark would understand if we took his business to Azra." She finalized her con by calling up a picture of him on her omni-tool as if getting ready to call him. That did it.

The asari was no longer looking smug, running around them so that she could stop them. "Wait," she called, holding up her arms. "Let's not be hasty."

"I'm sorry," Miranda said, "but my friend and I have a lot more shopping to do, and we'd rather not do it here with you."

"We can negotiate," pleaded the asari, trying to block them from leaving.

Garrus looked down at Miranda, before shaking his head, "I'm not sure, you were rather rude to my friend," he said gesturing to Miranda before placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Half off!" She half shrieked and half begged to stop them from leaving. "I'll sell you the rifle for half the price!"

Garrus turned to Miranda, noticing his mandibles twitch, and detecting the amusement in his small blue eyes, before she finally nodded, which he returned before turning to the saleswoman, "If you insist." He dropped his hand from Miranda's shoulder and followed the asari back to her booth to finalize the deal. He looked over his shoulder and gave Miranda a thankful nod, she returned it.

_That was too easy,_ Miranda thought, she was use to stiffer challenges than that. All it took was to drop the name of one rising individual whose company was slowly gaining steam in Illium. It made it an easy sell that she and Garrus had been working on his behalf. The merchant believed it, since she surrendered without trying to renegotiate the price.

"Thanks," Garrus said, sincerely rejoining her a few minutes later.

"It was my pleasure."

"So did Azra really sell that same rifle for half off?" Garrus asked, as the two of them made their way over to Shepard and Drek.

"Azra?" repeated Miranda, innocently. "I'm not sure, I've never asked."

Garrus picked up on the meaning and chuckled. "You must get a lot of discounts."

"You have no idea," she replied, the corners of her lips tugging upwards.

They walked in what Miranda felt to be a comfortable silence, coming closer to Shepard and Drek. The former looking tired while the latter continued to lecture him. Unfortunately for Miranda their silence was not to last.

"You didn't have to," Garrus pointed out.

"I know I didn't," she said, silently wondering herself why she had decided to get involved and help him. She tried to point out it was because he was a member of their team, and as a member she couldn't tolerate or allow him to be ripped off. If she was honest with herself, she knew this explanation was insufficient. She wouldn't have done the same for either the convict or the krogan if they were in a similar scenario then Garrus. Could it be that she was actually starting to like and respect the turian?

"Then why did you do it?"

_Couldn't he just be thankful and shut up? _She quietly asked herself, what was with his need to ask her these questions. She didn't want to chat with him. She was starting to think it was a mistake to intervene in the first place.

"Look, we're squad mates," she drawled, slipping into her icy persona. She hoped it would be enough to deter the talkative turian in asking her any more questions. "Which means your faulty rifle down the line could cost me."

"Fair point," he observed, looking pensive. His small blue eyes remained on her.

She didn't budge or blink under her stare, replying in kind. Challenging him to call her out, and prove she was wrong. He never got the chance as their silent stare down was interrupted.

"Hey, what do you have there?"

Miranda and Garrus both turned to see Shepard and Drek were standing beside them. The batarian using his four eyes to his advantage, his upper pair set on Garrus while his lower pair remained on Miranda. She found it very unnerving in how he could do that. Nonetheless, she was thankful for their timely interruption and the distraction as she had been beginning to lose her patience with the turian and his incessant questions.

She blinked at Shepard, who had spoken, unsure what he was actually referring to.

He sensed her confusion, since he pointed to the box she was cradling under her arm. It was the model Normandy.

"Oh?" she said, unable to stop herself from smiling, "It's a long story."

"I see," he said, slowly, his eyes resting on her, but only for a moment before they drifted over her shoulder, he frowned, before furrowing his brows.

Curious and confused, Miranda looked over her shoulder to see who or what could have enacted such a response from Shepard. And there standing only a few feet away from them was an armored asari. It was evident she was a mercenary since she was fully armed. Her armor was black, but with no distinct color or pattern to show who she was affiliated to. That was not the reason that Miranda found herself staring at the asari. It was her skin. The asari was green.

Miranda wasn't the only one staring either; she was receiving quite a bit of stares and whispers as she passed by.

"Is that, who I think it is?" Garrus asked, standing behind Miranda.

"Yeah, I think it is," Shepard answered, sounding equal parts confused and surprised.

Before Miranda could question to two of them, on whom exactly this green skinned asari was. She spotted them, her eyes widening in disbelief, before she hastily made her way over to them.

"Shepard," she said.

Miranda detected the warmness in the asari's tone, signaling that she was friendly with him.

"Shiala," Shepard guessed, before shaking his head.

She smiled, before nodding, "Yes, it's me."

"What are you doing here?" Shepard asked, talking to her as if they were old friends.

Shiala was no longer smiling. She closed her eyes as if trying to suppress a painful memory or feeling, "after what happened at Feros, I…I'm trying to make a difference."

Shepard gestured to the rifle holstered on her back, "So you're a mercenary."

Her face darkened, "you didn't give me a lot of options, Shepard. You left Feros as a graveyard."

"He didn't have much of a choice," Garrus came to the defense of his friend.

Shiala's face softened, "I know," she brought her fingers to her temple as if trying to fight off a migraine or headache, "I'm sorry, Shepard, I didn't mean to be rude, it's…it's just been very difficult."

Miranda was very confused, lost in this conversation. She wasn't sure who this Shiala was, or how she knew Garrus and Shepard, but knowing them, Shiala probably bumped into the pair during their chase of Saren. She then remembered that Shiala had mentioned Feros, the planet's name immediately clicked in her mind. She remembered reading about Shepard's mission on Feros during Project Lazarus.

"You're green," Drek pointed out bluntly, breaking his silence.

Shiala blushed, her green pigmentation darkening, "Yes, my contact with the Thorian has changed my appearance."

"What the hell is a Thorian?" Drek asked.

Shiala stiffened, revealing her discomfort about the topic being brought up.

"It's a long story, Drek," Shepard answered, dismissing the batarian's question. "I'll tell you some other time."

That seemed to mollify Drek, who crossed his arms over his chest, his four eyes fixed on the green skinned asari.

After a few seconds, Shiala seemed able to compose herself, "I haven't forgotten about you saving me, Shepard, I am trying to help people, you have to believe me."

"I do," Shepard said. "I believe you're trying," he added, "But I'm not sure how a mercenary can help people, Shiala."

"I know," she replied, her eyes on her boots. "I don't know how to help people, Shepard," she raised her head, shyly, "but, I'll try."

Shepard ran a hand through his short hair, looking pensive. "I might have a way for you to help people."

Miranda turned to Shepard, believing to know where he was going, but she hoped she was wrong.

Shiala raised her painted eyebrows, "what do you mean?"

"I'm putting a team together," he gestured to them as a group, "I'm looking for the best and brightest to help me stop the Collectors."

"The Collectors?" repeated a confused Shiala.

"You've heard about the human colonies?"

"The Collectors?" she asked for confirmation, seemingly putting it together in her head that they were behind the human disappearances that were now in the millions.

Shepard nodded, "Yeah, the Collectors. You want to help people, Shiala. This is your chance."

She bit her lower lip, "Shepard, my dealings with the Thorian, they've left me vulnerable."

"Shepard," Miranda warned him, "we have dossiers-"

He waved off her observation, "I don't want the Justicar." He turned to Shiala, stepping forward, placing his hand on her shoulder, "You helped me defeat Saren, Shiala. You're looking for a purpose in life. This can be your purpose. Will you help us?"

"Yes," Shiala said, straightening her posture, and raising her chin, "Yes, Shepard, I'll fight for you."

Shepard smiled, "that's great!"

She returned his smile, "Thank you, Shepard. You won't regret this."

Miranda bit down the irritation that was swelling within. She didn't share Shepard's optimism or his sentiment. She was already troubled to hear about the Thorian and this supposed connection that remained with Shiala. Miranda had studied the Thorian creepers, and was aware how dangerous and hostile they could be. What was to stop Shiala from turning into one of those creepers, turning against them on a mission, or on _the Normandy?_

There were too many risks for Miranda Lawson to feel comfortable. Cerberus spent months researching possible companions and compiling dossiers, and Shepard wanted to throw away all that meticulous study and recruit a stranger. It was baffling and frustrating for Miranda Lawson.

Miranda remained silent in her protest while Shepard relayed his information onto Shiala's omni-tool. The asari promised to contact him in the next few hours to meet up and for him to initiate her with the Normandy and the rest of the crew and squad. With that promise, the green skin asari left.

"Shepard," Miranda said icily, once Shiala was gone. "There is a reason why Cerberus makes dossiers."

He waved off her concern, as they made their way through the market. "She's an acolyte and an asari commando. Shiala will be a good fit."

"An acolyte under Benezia," Garrus pointed out, but the turian was careful to keep his voice neutral, making it difficult for Miranda to guess if he was favoring Shepard's decision or against it.

"That never stopped you from ogling Benezia's daughter," Shepard shot back to his friend, with a smile. That observation effectively silenced the turian, and the Commander returned his attention to her, but he wasn't smiling. "She can help us, Miranda."

"What about her connection with the Thorian?" Miranda asked, not believing he's effectively thought of the ramifications of his actions. "You're not just risking all of our lives," Miranda said, becoming increasingly frustrated with him, "but this mission!"

"I've made my decision, Operative Lawson," Shepard put down, forcibly. "You're opinion has been duly noted."

"Understood, Commander," she said, through clenched teeth, watching him walk off with Garrus and Drek in tow. She wanted to trust Shepard and his judgment, but sometimes he didn't make it easy for her. He brought along Grunt and Jack, both of whom seem more capable of causing harm to the squad then to the Collectors. Now, he was recruiting a stranger, someone who seemed to be struggling with Thorian indoctrination and Shepard wanted her to be part of a squad whose purpose was to defeat the Collectors, who were working for the Reapers. The latter was feared for their ability to indoctrinate thralls to their cause.

She sighed, realizing there was no use to fume or fuss. All she could do now was watch this Shiala carefully, to make sure that this asari didn't jeopardize their mission.

* * *

><p>"For one night only, the Actors Guild of Dekuuna is proud to present-"<p>

_Oh please, _Miranda sighed, watching Shepard who seemed enthralled by the terminal and the advertisement of an all elcor cast performance. She couldn't understand what Shepard saw in elcor performers. To her they were dull and lethargic. She was sure watching paint dry was more exciting than having to suffer through a four hour performance of the Dekuuna Actors Guild.

She, Drek, Garrus, and Shepard were currently waiting for a taxi that would take them to the part of Illium where Liara was. Shepard had decided to spend the time waiting, transfixed to the terminal. Drek had gone off to place a private call at one of the operating booths. While Garrus was off to the side, his attention on his newly purchased assault rifle. Only on Illium or Omega could an armed turian so casually examine a loaded assault rifle out in public.

Miranda using the spare time to her advantage had just paid a courier to deliver her model Normandy ship back to the real _Normandy._ She had sensed Shepard's curious glance at the model ship, knowing he was perplexed by her strange purchase. She was looking forward to telling him that particular story.

"Still no taxi?"

"No," she answered.

Shepard frowned. "At this rate, it would be faster walking."

"Good luck with that," she said dryly, they both were perfectly aware of the impossibility of them reaching their destination by walking.

He chuckled, looking around to try to locate the other members of their squad, "Where's Drek?"

"Private call," she answered, noticing the curiosity that flickered in his expression. She couldn't blame him, nor could she deny her own curiosity when the batarian announced gruffly that he needed to make this call.

"Did he say with whom?" he asked, judging by his tone, he seemed already to accept the realization she wouldn't know.

She shook her head, confirming to him, what he probably already suspected.

"Shepard?" called a weak voice.

Miranda turned to see an asari fighting her way through the crowd of civilians to reach Shepard and herself. "Do you know her?"

"No," he answered, slowly, not hiding his dismay at being pointed out by a practical stranger.

That was enough for her. She brought her hand to her holstered pistol watching the asari approach.

Shepard sensed her movement, "hold it, Miranda."

"Shepard, you can't be so trusting," she replied out of the corner of her mouth, as she unfastened the straps that kept her pistol secured.

"State your business," Miranda growled when the stranger reached them.

The asari ignored her, her eyes on Shepard, "it is you. You're Commander Shepard?"

"I am," Shepard said slowly, "And you are?"

"You don't know me," she answered hastily, as if dismissing the importance it would bring to this conversation.

"What's going on, Shepard?" Their guest hadn't gone unnoticed. Garrus rejoined them, his small blue eyes warily looking at their new guest. He didn't bother to holster his rifle, cradling the assault weapon.

Drek came from a different direction, his omni-tool glowing, as if waiting for a reason to unleash a volley of deadly tech attacks from his position. They had the asari surrounded, in case she tried anything.

"I knew it was you, Shepard, as soon as I saw you," the asari said softly.

"Congratulations," Drek deadpanned, "He is pretty famous."

Miranda had to agree with the batarian's blunt observation. It was quite difficult not to recognize Shepard due to his growing list of accomplishments, Elysium, Torfan, Spectre, Citadel…

The asari looked up, "no, I…I saw his aura."

"Somebody's been having a few drinks," Garrus said softly, Drek chuckled before nodding.

"How can I help you?" Shepard asked steamrolling over Garrus and Drek's chuckling.

"I was asked to give you a message if I saw you."

"A message?" Miranda repeated, suspiciously, her fingers tapping on her holster.

"That's right," the asari answered.

"What sort of message is this?" Shepard asked, diplomatically. He was careful to keep his tone curious and not judgmental as he addressed this asari.

The asari hesitated, looking around the crowed market to see if they were being eavesdropped on. Seeing as they weren't, she leaned forward and in a voice above a whisper, she said, "your friend on Noveria."

Miranda recognized at once that this was a code. However, that didn't help her in trying to figure out what the asari was actually referencing. She wasn't the only one left out of the loop.

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Drek.

Shepard and Garrus shared a look, "let's talk in private," the former said, leading the asari to a more secluded part of the market. Garrus followed the pair, with Miranda and Drek behind.

"Do you know what they're talking about?"

Miranda shrugged at the batarian's question. She was just as lost as he was. Once, they had escorted the asari to a clearing of empty benches that gave them some privacy, the asari sat down, but Miranda and the others remained standing. Miranda noticed Shepard and Garrus were now looking over this asari with new interest. It made her wonder what sort of person they met on Noveria.

"What's the message?" Shepard asked.

The asari's head darted up. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, showing only the whites of her eyes, now. Miranda instinctively took a step back from the possessed asari, Drek cursed in surprise, but Shepard and Garrus remained stoic staring down this messenger. Neither of them seem alarmed or disturbed by the sudden change in the asari.

And when she spoke, her voice was suddenly very different. It was ethereal, hauntingly beautiful, shimmering in strength while displaying a melodic tone that perfectly balanced her words.

"_We hide. We burrow. We build. But we know those that you seek those who soured the songs of our mothers. When the time comes, our voice will join with yours, and our crescendo will burn the darkness clean. Thank you, Shepard. The rachni will sing again, because of you."_

_The rachni? _ Miranda's mind came to a screeching halt at this revelation. "Shepard, what's going on?"

His eyes remained on the asari, "That was a message from the rachni queen."

"You encountered a rachni queen?" asked a dumbstruck Miranda, trying to compute this new information. She had studied the rachni after she had taken over a rebellious Cerberus cell. The same cell that would eventually warrant Shepard's attention and led to their encounter as he and his squad had to save her and the Cerberus scientists.

She was amazed at the level of intelligence that the species had, but never had she known or contacted a queen. She was aware of its possible existence, knowing that the rachni Cerberus was delivering to her cell had to be coming from somewhere…

"On Noveria," answered Garrus, grimly.

"That's right," Shepard agreed, "I was given a choice, to either kill it or spare it, and by sparing it, trust that she truly meant no harm."

"And you spared it?" asked Drek, in confusion. "You should've flushed that bug!"

"No!" protested the outraged asari messenger, "Shepard, did a great thing sparing the queen."

Shepard, for his part, scratched the stubble covering his chin. He didn't seem to share the envoy's confidence in his decision. It caused Miranda to wonder if he believed he'd made a mistake by sparing this rachni queen. She decided to file the question and many more cropping up due to this brief conversation to the back of her mind, knowing there would be a time to ask him all about this Noveria mission.

"Where is she?"

The messenger turned back to Shepard, "it was an uncharted world. She saved my life. More than that, she gave me a purpose." She stood back up, smoothing the front of her dress as she did. "They are an amazing people, Shepard. The galaxy owes you a great debt for giving them a second chance."

"Thank you, for the message," Shepard said, shaking the messenger's hand.

She smiled, "we will meet again, Shepard." Without saying anything further she left them, being swallowed up by the crowd of passing civilians.

"Do random strangers usually come up to you, Shepard?" Drek asked, the batarian's attention on where the asari had gone. He was referring not just to this envoy, but to their earlier encounter with Shiala.

Shepard chuckled, "it happens more often than you think."

"Yeah," Garrus agreed, "And they usually all have these problems that only Shepard could fix."

"That sounds rather annoying," Drek observed. "I'm surprised you can get any work done, if you're always being hounded by random people."

Shepard shrugged, "I manage."

"It doesn't hurt that the credits are good," Garrus pointed out.

"No, it doesn't," Shepard smiled.

Garrus' mirth didn't last, sobering up, his blue eyes looked reflective. "The rachni fighting the Reapers," he turned to Shepard. "Maybe you were right to spare them."

"Yeah, maybe I was," he said, his voice didn't contain his usual confidence. It sounded hollow. He looked distant. He shook himself out of his reverie, before turning to the others, a forced smile on his lips, "Come on, let's get a taxi."

* * *

><p>"You didn't say that?" Shepard asked, once his laughter subsided and he was able to breathe again.<p>

"I did," Miranda answered, feeling a growing sense of pride at how Shepard had reacted to her story. She cleared her throat, slipping into the role of ditzy tourist, she widened her eyes to play up the star struck young woman, earning a further snicker from Shepard.

"It looked bigger on the vids."

Shepard laughed, holding onto the edge of the table for support, so to stop him from falling out of the booth. "That's too funny."

"Indeed," Miranda said, before taking a sip of her water. It was just the two of them.

They had missed Liara. It seemed she was in another part of Illium and was not expected back for another day or so. When asked, what she was doing, her secretary answered that she was following up certain leads, but when asked to elaborate the secretary politely refused before escorting the four of them out of Liara's office, with the promise to contact them when she was back.

Disappointed at being unable to speak with Liara for another day or two, Shepard gave Drek and Garrus permission to venture out on their own. They set out to the Eternity bar. It seemed the batarian and turian were in the mood for entertainment and drinks. Miranda wasn't about to complain, that neither of them wanted to join Shepard and her for a meal, since it gave her and Shepard the perfect excuse to enjoy a nice intimate meal together.

It was his idea to share a quiet meal. He smiled, when he admitted that he still owed her a dinner. After all, she had bought him their first one back at the Citadel in the aftermath of the Battle against Saren and the geth. Miranda readily accepted.

The two now found themselves trying to blend in as tourists at a restaurant. They had asked for a secluded booth as to avoid the attention of other patrons, only getting it when Shepard deposited a generous tip to their hostess. It was a difficult feat for the Spectre and Operative to avoid attention. Commander Shepard was one of the most famous individuals in the galaxy, while Miranda's looks made it difficult for her to blend in anywhere.

In this time together, all of her frustrations about Shiala and Shepard's stubborn views on the Justicar melted away from the Ice Queen. Her fears and concerns of this Suicide Mission waned. In these peaceful moments, she and Shepard almost seemed like a normal, happy couple. Laughing and eating together without a care in the world.

It was a naïve reflection, Miranda admitted, but she wasn't about to complain.

"So that's why you bought that model ship," Shepard pointed out, once he stopped laughing.

"Yes," she answered, "I thought you and Joker would get a kick out of it."

"I'm sure he will," Shepard nodded, "Then again, I've been thinking of collecting model ships."

"Have you now?" asked Miranda, unable to keep the surprise out of her tone.

"Yeah," he shrugged, "I find them and the history behind the ships fascinating." His lips twitched before adding, "I mean, I have to have better luck collecting ships then fish."

"That's true," she returned his smile. "At least when you collect ships you don't have to worry about them dying."

"Exactly," Shepard chuckled, before his mirthful expression disappeared, "So… can I have the ship?"

Miranda was caught off guard, by his change in demeanor and the tone of his question. She hadn't been expecting him to be so serious or vulnerable in asking about the model ship.

"Yes."

He smiled, looking pleased and relieved. "Good," he said, returning his attention to the menu. They had already finished eating, and were now looking over the dessert and alcoholic choices that were offered.

"Shepard?" she asked, curious with his behavior about the ship.

"Hmm?" he asked, his face obstructed by the menu that he was holding. "It's silly."

"That's okay," Miranda said. "You can tell me."

He sighed, placing the menu on the table, before putting his hands to rest over it. "It's just now I…I have something from you." He paused, looking a bit uncomfortable talking about this sensitive topic, but to his credit, he still continued. "A gift that when I can look at it, I can think of you."

Miranda felt her throat tighten, her heart fluttering. She didn't trust her voice to properly express not just her surprise at his heartfelt reflection, but her own affection at his sincere words. She instead, reached out over the table, putting her hands on top of his.

His eyes went from her hands, before looking up at her, he squeezed her hands and smiled.

Miranda returned it, warmth swelling in her chest. In that moment, she too realized the importance of that simple model ship. It meant more to either of them than the price. To her, it was a reminder of her first time admitting to anyone that she was Shepard's girlfriend. It was her first gift to him, and that was how he'd remember it too, not just for the gift, but for the sentiment that went with it.

"I guess this means, I gotta get you something," he said, adding a dramatic sigh for effect.

She noticed the mirth in his eyes, before she nodded, "that's right, Shepard." She patted his hands, before removing hers. "A friendly warning, girls don't like toy ships."

His lips crooked upwards. "That's too bad, because I have this plush elcor I'm sure you'd love."

Miranda laughed, "I'm sure you do-" A familiar beep from her omni-tool, interrupted her from going any further. Confused, she called up her omni-tool to see she had a new message. It was marked urgent. She opened it, it consisted of only a few words, but it was enough to wipe away all of the previous affection and thankfulness she had felt. Feeling as if the bottom had fallen out on her, she re-read the message again and again, wanting it to be wrong, wanting to have misread it.

_It can't be possible…_

She thought numbly. She stared blankly at the message, all traces of previous mischief and mirth removed from her flawless face.

"Miranda?" Shepard asked, penetrating through her fears. She looked up to see the concern in his eyes. "What is it?"

She didn't respond, feeling the astonishment that had taken hold of her, being replaced by a bubbling anger. She brought her hands to rest on the edge of the table, clenching them into fists. Her anger was directed at one individual.

_That bastard,_ she cursed. She knew with all of his resources that sooner or later he'd be able to locate her. She knew the influence and power the man had at his control, much of it pooled in trying to find her. She couldn't allow him to get her. The thought of him snatching her up caused a crackle of biotic energy to envelop her hands.

"Miranda!" Shepard said, sounding two parts alarmed, and concerned at her accidental display of her biotics.

"Shepard," she snapped from her reverie, looking to see the one man in the galaxy that could help her with her problem. He was the one man, who'd help her with anything without asking for anything in return.

She hesitated. It wasn't fair of her to bring up her concerns her problems. He had enough on his mind. He had enough problems to deal with, then being dragged into her family problems. Besides she was a highly skilled and trained Cerberus Operative. She was sure she could handle anything her father could throw at her. Yes, the more she thought about it, the more she realized it was better to not tell Shepard anything. That way, all she had to do was excuse herself, and meet with her contact. It was as simple as that.

"It's nothing, Shepard," she lied, smoothly. She was quick to exit out of the message and her inbox from her omni-tool.

"You're a terrible liar," he pointed out.

She frowned, remembering him telling her the same thing back in the Cargo hold, when she was looking over at Grunt.

"Miranda, what's wrong?"

She hesitated.

"Miranda, tell me," he gently asked, "I can help you."

She found her resolve cracking. Her independent will to do it herself was crumbling, her emotional barrier collapsing. For the first time, since Miranda was working on Lazarus Project, she blinked back tears.

That got Shepard's attention, getting up from his side of the booth.

"Shepard," she said, feeling his hands enclose hers. "I need your help."

"Anything," he said, "Whatever it is. I'll help."

"Thank you, Shepard," she said, pushing herself out of the booth. "We need to get to the Eternity Bar."

If Shepard was confused with this sudden decision, he didn't show it. He only nodded, "are we going to need back-up?"

Miranda didn't have to think over his question too long, knowing her father's resources. It would be smart to have a few extra hands. "Yeah, we should."

"Alright," he was nodding, his omni-tool glowing as he paid their check. "I'll contact Drek and Garrus. They should still be there." He looked up, "should I contact the Normandy to send others?"

Miranda shook her head, not comfortable with divulging this sensitive information with certain companions.

"Okay," he said, "then maybe you can fill me in on the way."

"Very well, Shepard," she said, following him out of the restaurant. She silently wondered how was she going to tell him her most private and guarded secret. Miranda Lawson had a twin sister…

* * *

><p><em>That bitch,<em>

Miranda felt a great deal of satisfaction watching the asari commando sail through the air before landing with a thickening crunch into a row of crates. She didn't have time to admire the distance the asari had traveled due to her biotic warp as the cronies hired by her father quickly opened fire causing them to scatter to avoid being hit.

She still couldn't believe it.

_Niket…Why Niket,_ she mused, she couldn't believe he'd turn on her. She trusted him. He was her friend. He knew what her father was like. And he stilled helped him. Her father had polluted her one good friendship. How he used money to buy Niket's loyalty. He turned her one good friend against her. It made her sick.

Now, Niket was dead, and not by her, but by that asari bitch.

She looked up from her position to see a pair of mercenaries was concentrating on a row of crates, not ten yards from her position. She stood from her crouching position, her pistol raised she opened fire. The first mercenary never stood a chance. He hit the ground before Miranda was half way through her clip. The second mercenary had enough time to spin around to face her before he was taken out from behind.

It was Garrus. It seemed the turian was accommodating quite nicely to his newly purchased rifle. He had been the one behind the crates that the two mercenaries were targeting. "Thanks."

She gave him a distracted nod while she scanned the area, seeing Shepard and Drek handling the last two mercenaries by the elevators.

"Its all clear," Shepard called, waving them over.

Miranda didn't need to be told twice. As far as she was concerned this mission wasn't over. Her father was a persistent bastard, they needed to make sure her sister and her family weren't harmed or harassed. He very well could have hired more thugs and mercenaries besides that asari bitch and her lot.

She wasn't going to stop until she knew her sister was safe.

* * *

><p><em>Would it really hurt her? If she knew she had a sister who loved her?<em>

_Damn him, _Miranda said with no real venom, directed towards Shepard. He was right, and she knew it. Though it didn't make it any less easier for her and what she was about to do.

Her sister was safe. Miranda thought that was good enough. She would've preferred slinking back into the shadows unseen. Yet, Shepard had to stop her. He had to encourage her to see her sister. And he just had to make sense about it, too.

That was why Miranda Lawson was walking over towards her sister right now. Her heart was racing, her stomach rumbled in protest, filled with dread and anxiety about this encounter. She was nervous. She tried to push it down as she approached. Her sister looked so happy. She was with her family, naive from the dangers that were so close from crashing into her life and ruining what Miranda had fought so hard for her sister to have.

Peace, a normal life. Miranda wanted to shield her sister from the dangerous man their father was. She didn't want her to know about his warped legacy and the attempts he'd go to achieve them. That was Miranda's burden to bear, not Oriana's.

She didn't have to know about why she was brought into this world. Oriana didn't have to know about the purpose that she and Miranda were destined to. Miranda's purpose was to be the beginning of her father's dynasty. That same role awaited Oriana, if Miranda hadn't saved her. That day forward, Miranda had a new purpose. To protect her baby sister and to make sure she could grow up relatively happy, healthy, and in a loving home.

She looked up to see Oriana had spotted her, a look of recognition coming to her face before excusing herself from her family. Miranda was taken aback by how happy she looked, her smile was friendly and warm, a familiar glint in her eyes that brought a sudden relief to quell Miranda's anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at her sister, and for the first time since her sister was a baby, Miranda Lawson spoke to her.

"Hi."


	8. 7: Memento

**We**** will Rise**

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Seven: Memento **

"What's wrong, Garrus?"

"Nothing," answered the turian far too quickly to sound convincing.

"Uh-huh," Shepard said, not believing his friend.

The two of them were currently taking a speeder to Liara's apartment. She had invited the pair of them for a drink, to reminisce, and to give them information on the drell assassin-Thane Krios. Shepard was more than happy to oblige. He knew it would be good to catch up with the asari archeologist. He missed their old conversations on-board the first Normandy when she explained to him asari history, and then he would teach her pre-space travel human history. It also didn't hurt that he was looking forward to further teasing Garrus on the sensitive matter of the turian's feelings towards Liara.

"You know in this light, Garrus," Shepard began, pausing for effect. "Your scars positively glow."

Garrus chuckled, but kept his attention on the traffic. The turian had elected to drive. Garrus still hadn't forgiven Shepard for almost driving the Mako off of the Prothean Highway on Feros. It didn't matter to Garrus that it was a Mako and not a speeder. In Garrus' opinion it wasn't safe to occupy any vehicle if Shepard was driving.

"So where do you think she was?"

"How should I know?"

Shepard shrugged, "I was just musing, Garrus."

"Can you do that quietly?"

Shepard detected the mirth in his friend's tone. "Sick of my company already, Garrus?"

"Very," Garrus deadpanned.

"I know whose company you'd never be sick of."

"Shepard," Garrus warned.

"What?" Shepard asked innocently. "You don't know who I was going to say."

"Just don't."

"Okay, okay," Shepard said, with a dramatic sigh.

"Thank you."

"No problem, pal," Shepard adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. Neither he nor Garrus were wearing armor, they had elected for a more casual look for their visit with Liara. However, they both were concealing pistols just in case. Garrus had also his beloved assault rifle and sniper rifle in the back seat.

Shepard looked out the window, watching the hundreds of speeders flying by, looking like specks and blurs as they passed the towering spires of Nos Astra. "So how many times did you change before you settled on your current outfit?"

"I'm not listening to you," Garrus replied, irritably.

This was too much fun for Shepard to even consider stopping. "I wonder if she has a special someone?" Shepard mused, his smile turning into a chuckle when Garrus turned to him, his turian friend looking very irritable with his mandibles twitching. "Garrus, the traffic," Shepard said in between his laughter.

Garrus sighed, and turned his attention back to the traffic. He made a sudden and sharp turn. Shepard grabbed onto the handle above the door to brace himself, not letting go until their speeder settled into a new lane of traffic. "You know I'm seriously considering crashing this speeder."

Shepard laughed, "That's okay, Cerberus already rebuilt me once."

Garrus shook his head, before chuckling, the turian opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted.

_Beep…Beep_

"Is that your omni-tool?"

"Yeah."

"Well, don't answer it in here," Garrus said. "I don't want you to incinerate the windshield."

"Yeah, yeah," Shepard said, realizing that he'd never live that one down. You blow up one terminal with your omni-tool and all of a sudden, you're a klutz who's unable to handle a simple device. He recognized the beeping. It signaled he had a new message. Curiosity won out over caution, activating his omni-tool and drawing up his inbox over Garrus' protest.

"Just drive would ya?"

"That'll be hard to do, if you summon a VI Drone in my face."

"I'm just opening my inbox."

"Yeah, and what were you doing when you shot down that terminal?"

"This is payback, right?" Shepard asked, looking up from his omni-tool, he could see the amusement in his friend's eyes.

"You bet."

"Fair enough," Shepard agreed, before turning his attention back to his omni-tool to see his inbox had loaded. He saw the new message at once. It was from his father. That wasn't much of a surprise. He and his father had exchanged a few emails since Omega. He loaded the message believing it to be the same old, same old. It wasn't.

"I don't believe it."

"What?" asked Garrus, suddenly interested in a message that he didn't even want Shepard opening in the first place.

"He's in Illium," murmured Shepard in disbelief, looking up from his omni-tool, to try to process this revelation. His eyes rested on the spires in the distance, while he reflected on his father's message. "He wants to meet with me."

"Who?"

"My father."

"I thought your father was with the Alliance."

"He is," Shepard leaned back in his seat. "He's on leave, I told him that I'd be on Illium." His father was asking to meet with him a few hours from now. He hadn't seen his father in almost four years. For the first human Spectre, it was an easy decision to make. He quickly typed up a message telling his father he'd meet with him. Once the message was sent, he turned off his omni-tool.

His father never traveled this far out, especially if he was on paid leave. It instantly spawned suspicion, causing several questions to pop up as he tried to uncover his father's reasoning. He suspected his father's insistence on seeing him was tied in with Shepard's decision to resign from the Alliance.

Shepard may not know his father's motives but he couldn't deny the happiness he felt at seeing him again. In the aftermath of his assisting Miranda and saving her twin sister from her maniacal father, he understood how blessed he was with his father. So the opportunity to see the man who he loved and respected above all else was not something he was going to pass on. No matter the circumstances that brought the two Shepard men together.

* * *

><p>"Shepard!"<p>

"Liara," Shepard smiled, he had just enough time to open his arms before he found Liara holding onto him in a firm hug.

"It's so good to see you," she murmured into his shoulder.

"It's good to see you, too," he said, rubbing her back. "I know what you did for me."

She stiffened in his arms at the reminder of her assistance in Project Lazarus. "I…I had to, Shepard."

"I'm not complaining," he said, holding her at arm's length, favoring her with a smile

She returned it, before her blue eyes looked over his shoulder, "Garrus." Shepard was sure her smile widened when her eyes met Garrus. This time Shepard was a good enough friend to remain quiet.

"Liara," Garrus greeted cordially.

Liara went over to Garrus, she tilted her head to the side, "or should I call you Archangel?"

Shepard detected the mischief in Liara's tone.

"Oh-ah," Garrus said, sounding unusually flummoxed, "Garrus is fine."

"It's good to see you too," she chuckled, before hugging him.

"You too, Liara," he returned the hug.

"So you're an information broker?" Shepard asked, when Liara pulled away from Garrus.

"Yes, that's right," she said, walking back over to the door of her apartment. She had been so happy to see them that she hadn't waited to even let them into her apartment before greeting them.

"What happened to history?"

"I haven't forgotten, Shepard," she said warmly, opening the door, and stepping aside so that Shepard and Garrus could walk through.

Her apartment in a word was extravagant. The first floor was sprawling with an open floor plan that allowed for a spacious living room that was filled with ornate tables and rich leather furniture including dark blue sofas. A curved stairwell peeled off of one of the walls leading up to the second floor. The kitchen was tucked away in the corner across from the entrance.

"Would you guys like something to drink?" she asked, walking across the living room and over towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Shepard replied, Garrus added his agreement, but the two soldiers remained in the spacious living room, continuing to gawk at the area around them.

"This is impressive," Garrus said, standing in place, while his head swiveled to take in the beauty and luxury of the room. "I think I got into the long line of work."

"What is a vigilante's salary?" Shepard asked.

"Let's just say, we don't get a retirement package."

Shepard chuckled; besides the opulence of the furniture that Liara filled her living room with, Shepard noticed that she also brought her work home with her. It was not her work as an information broker. It was her first passion-history. Scattered across the living room in several different display cases were several artifacts that looked to be prothean in design and origin.

Shepard was looking over a Prothean disc, tucked behind a display case. He remembered the many discs that he and Liara had gathered during their chase of Saren. He was pleased to see that she seemed to have kept most of them that they had collected. This particular disc wasn't a remarkable specimen or in the best of condition. The edges were cut, the sides frayed, surviving thousands of years of tumultuous weather on the barren planet they found it on.

"I'm proud of you, Garrus," she called from the kitchen, getting the three of them drinks.

It was clear Garrus wasn't expecting that, "Really?"

"Yes," Liara said, "I read the reports of what you and your friends did on Omega."

Shepard winced, knowing that topic was still a very sensitive and sore subject to his turian friend.

"You're one of the few people who liked what we did," Garrus observed, bitterly.

"I'm sorry, Garrus," Liara was back-pedaling, realizing that she had touched a nerve. "I didn't mean to-"

"Don't worry about it," Garrus interrupted her apology. "I don't like talking about it."

"I can understand and respect that," Liara admitted, regret in her voice. It seemed she too had certain experiences in her past that she did not want to discuss. He could only wonder what his friend had gotten involved in these past two years that could bring such genuine pain to her tone.

Liara appeared beside him, a glass in hand, offering it to him, it was filled with an amber colored liquid. He took it with a nod, taking a sip of the drink, pleased at the taste. She remained beside him, her eyes on the disc.

"It took you more than an hour to retrieve this disc," she recalled, wistfully, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "It was something about a pyramid, an ice storm and no suitable footholds for you to climb."

Shepard chuckled, remembering what she was referring to. The pyramid was on a frozen barren planet. It was coated in ice and sleet, but he had been determined to add the disc to their growing collection. He lost count how many times he tried and fell down before he was successful in retrieving the disc.

"Yes, I remember," he took another sip. "It was worth it, though."

"We were the only ones who thought so," she pointed out. She was holding two glasses, one for her and one for Garrus. The latter making his way over to them, Shepard spotted his reflection in the glass case, the turian remained standing behind them.

Liara's eyes too moved to Garrus' reflection, before darting back to the glass she was holding. "Oh Garrus, I'm sorry." A blushed appeared on her cheeks, darkening her blue complexion, turning around to offer Garrus his drink. It was a bluish liquid.

He waved off her apology, before taking the drink. "That would've been tough to explain to the Council." He took a generous sip from his glass, keeping his eyes on the disc. "Shepard won't be able to follow up on those Saren leads for awhile since he slipped and hurt himself while trying to climb an icy pyramid on this backwater planet, we weren't supposed to be on…"

Shepard couldn't help but laugh, seeing the honesty in his friend's humorous observation. He wasn't the only one, Liara joined in on the laughter. His eyes fell on another display case that was centered in the middle of the room. Even at this distance, he was sure it was no prothean artifact. It wasn't shaped like the usual discs that Liara had collected. Curious, he approached it, listening to the footsteps of Garrus and Liara who were following him.

Getting closer he realized he was right, inside this glass case was no prothean artifact. It was a piece of armor. It was a piece of his armor. It was his original N7 chest-plate. The armor was scarred and scoffed, even singed in places, but the N7 patch was still plain to see.

Shepard's grip on his glass tightened, closing his other hand into a fist. Remembering his previous incident in the Med-Bay, he turned away from the armor, not wanting to induce or endure another reminder of his death. He turned to see Liara and Garrus silently watching him.

"You kept this?"

She didn't need for him to be specific. "Of course I did." She closed the distance between herself and him, her eyes on the remnant of his armor. "I actually have quite a bit of things from our time together on the Normandy."

"But why this?" Shepard asked, understanding that her happiness was associated with _the Normandy._ So why did she keep a piece of his armor that he was wearing at his death? The two were not related.

"After you died, Shepard, I wanted a keepsake of you," she sighed, placing her hand on the glass case. "You…you can't understand how much you meant to me." She soon corrected herself, "how much you mean to me." Her hand tracing the outline of the glass case, "Seeing you before me, Shepard, it's like a gift from the Goddess." She dropped her hand, returning it to her side.

Shepard didn't know what to say to Liara's emotional confession, settling on actions instead of words, he draped an arm over her shoulder to comfort her. Weeks after his resurrection, Shepard was only beginning to understand the toll his death had on those closest to him.

He recalled his intimate talks with Miranda, revealing her emotional attachment to him from a woman who did her best not to show emotion. The discovery of the strong feelings she held for him in the aftermath of his death. Feelings she was conflicted to confess to him, due to her pride and her upbringing, feelings that he held just as strongly towards her.

Shepard listened to Joker's confession and the tremendous burden that _the Normandy_ helmsman had placed on his bridle shoulders, forcing him to live with the guilt that he was responsible for Shepard's death, these past two years.

It was not just his death that had taken a toll on his friends, and those closest to him, but his two year absence coupled with his insistence on working with the only organization that was doing something to combat the Reaper threat-Cerberus.

On Horizon, Kaidan confronted him, the Alliance soldier claimed to have suffered a tremendous hurt at Shepard's death, akin to losing a limb. Yet, he was fueled by anger, at Shepard's decision to work with Cerberus. He was not the only one. On Freedom's Progress, Shepard met Tali who both embraced him upon seeing him back from the dead, and also challenged him for his ties to Cerberus…

"I felt the same way," Garrus admitted, breaking through Shepard's reflections.

The Commander looked up, confused and surprised by Garrus' admission. His friend had rarely spoken about Shepard's death, in all of their discussions his focus had always been on Omega, his squad, and their ultimate betrayal at the hands of their fellow team member, Sidonis.

"You changed things, Shepard," Garrus observed. "You changed me, my perspective, my attitude and my life." He paused, shaking his head. "I couldn't go back to C-Sec after the incident. Chasing Saren had opened my eyes, inspired me to make a difference." Garrus had walked around Shepard and Liara, looking at neither of them, instead like Liara before him, his eyes remained on Shepard's armor within the display case.

"You did make a difference, Garrus," Liara pointed out, following Garrus. She placed a hand on his shoulder. The turian stiffened at first, but made no attempt to shrug it off. Even when it was clear, he didn't agree with her perspective.

Garrus shook his head, dismissive of her opinion, "No, in the end, I didn't." His mandibles twitched in frustration. "In the end it was greed and corruption that won out."

"That's not true," Shepard argued, not allowing his friend to dismiss all the good he did on Omega. "You did good work." He moved around the glass case, looking through the glass paneling to see the hardened look in his friend's eyes. "You made me proud, Garrus." He could see his words surprised Garrus, the turian blinked in what looked to be disbelief, losing their hardened edge.

Liara squeezed his shoulder, "me too, Garrus."

Garrus remained silent, mulling over Shepard and Liara words before giving them a thankful nod to what they had to say. He put his hand on-top of Liara's hand that was resting on his shoulder, and Shepard was sure he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and he was also sure that he noticed a creeping blush on Liara's cheeks at the intimate touch between herself and Garrus.

"So you have other keepsakes?" Shepard asked, deciding it was a good idea to switch topics. He directed his question to Liara, remembering she mentioned keeping other mementos from her time on _the Normandy. _

"Yes, I do," she said, dropping her hand from Garrus' shoulder before pressing her hands on the dress she was wearing. She seemed to be trying to smooth out her already wrinkle-free dress. She walked towards the pair of sofas, "however, I think it's important that we get down to business first."

"Fair enough," Shepard agreed, following her over to the pair of sofas with Garrus falling in-step with him.

She sat down on the edge of one sofa. She placed her drink on the ornately designed dark table in front of the pair of sofas. She picked up a tablet that was resting on it and offered it to Shepard.

He took the tablet, scrolling through the information on the assassin, discovering that they needed to contact an asari who was recently let go from Dantius Towers. He then handed the tablet to Garrus, who took it while Shepard sat down on the adjoining sofa from Liara.

"Thanks," he said, referring to the tablet.

"I'm only sorry that I made you wait for it."

"We're not complaining," Garrus said, putting the tablet down on the table. "This information is impressive." He took a seat at the corner of Shepard's sofa, placing himself between Liara and Shepard. "I mean we're getting this information for free."

"This is true." Liara's blue eyes shimmered with mirth, looking over the pair of them from the top of her glass as she took a sip. "And you should be thankful that I am."

"So you're one of the best, then?" Garrus asked.

"What do you think?" Liara asked through a smile.

Shepard remained silent, feeling his lips crooking upwards, amused at the back and forth between his two friends. He was but a spectator in this conversation, and didn't feel a need to interrupt anytime soon, not when they seemed to be having too much fun without him.

"Fair point," Garrus conceded, "do you have time for another case?"

Shepard frowned, at his friend's quick change in tone and demeanor. He had a growing suspicion with what Garrus was hinting at.

Liara raised her painted eye brows, curious and surprised at his sudden request. "That depends."

"Garrus," Shepard said.

"No, Shepard," Garrus cut-in, "I'm not going to forget about what he did."

"I'm not asking you to," Shepard said, slowly, aware that Liara was watching them. "I just don't think-"

"Don't Shepard," Garrus raised his hand in warning. His small blue eyes narrowed and hardened whenever he recalled his time on Omega and from the betrayal he suffered from one his supposed friends.

Shepard wisely didn't reply. He knew that his friend wasn't going to find peace with just forgetting about what happened. It seemed he was going to need to confront his demons.

"I need you to find someone for me," Garrus said, his arms resting on his knees as he leaned forward, his raptor gaze, glaring off in the distance. No doubt, he was picturing the man who was responsible for all of his pent up frustration, and the target for his vendetta.

Liara turned to Shepard, looking at him for guidance or permission. She understood the sensitive nature of this issue, and wanted to walk with great care, while she balanced her two close friends. He gave what he believed a barely noticeable nod. Whether Garrus noticed it or not, he didn't know, as his turian friend remained quiet, staring off at no particular spot.

"Who do you want me to find, Garrus?"

Garrus turned to her, his blue eyes remained hardened, "Sidonis."

* * *

><p>Shepard's time with Liara went by faster then he would have thought. It had started off bumpy with the reminders of Omega and Garrus' reflections as Archangel, bitterly wondering if he truly did any good for the lawless station. Even after Shepard and Liara convinced him otherwise, his turian friend couldn't let go of Sidonis's betrayal asking Liara to use her contacts and skills as an information broker to find the one who betrayed Garrus and his squad-Sidonis.<p>

Once she did, Garrus seemed to return back to his normal self. The three friends spent their time catching up on the past two years; this was mostly Liara and Garrus, since Shepard had been dead. The Commander had no inclination in interrupting their conversations, detecting a very cordial atmosphere between his two friends. He was even sure a few flirts were exchanged, though he was sure his two friends would deny that. However, when it was time for Shepard to leave to meet his father, Garrus' attempts to drive Shepard seemed more for show than sincerity.

The three friends spent time looking through a few pictures and other tokens that Liara had kept during her stay on _the Normandy._ Over another round of drinks, they reminisced about their favorite moments and memories, sharing stories, and simply enjoying a little peaceful reflection. It wasn't until after the third hour that Shepard had to excuse himself, needing to meet with his father. He had elected to take a cab to the restaurant, encouraging Garrus and Liara to stay and continue to talk and drink.

Shepard's cab ride over to the restaurant wasn't eventful. The first human Spectre didn't marvel at the asari architecture, or the impressive skyline, his thoughts were more inwards in focus. He hadn't seen his father in four years. It wasn't because of any falling out between them, but due to their busy schedules. That, and Shepard had been dead for two years.

He looked back at his childhood fondly, when he was living with his dad while his mother was on leave. Benjamin Shepard understood the balance between discipline and relaxation. On the other hand his mother-Hannah raised by Alliance parents, was more inclined to treat Shepard like a soldier rather than a son at times. His father, who grew up an orphan on Earth, valued the importance of family and didn't want it to be squandered, when he spent time with his son. When he greeted his mother it was always with a salute and a serious look, but when it was his father, it was always with a hug and a smile…

"John?"

Shepard looked up, his lips crooked into a smile when his father- Staff Commander Benjamin Shepard came into view. It was clear upon sight that these two men were very much related. Ben Shepard was a tall man, standing well over six feet. He stood with a confidence and charisma that others envied. His hair was short and brown, while just beginning to gray at the roots. He had a nicely trimmed goatee. Blues eyes which Shepard had inherited from his father were watching him closely, shimmering with barely restrained emotion, as a father took in the sight of his son for the first time in four years.

"Dad," Shepard said, closing the distance between them.

Ben Shepard clapped his son on the back, meeting his son in an emotional embrace. "It's so good to see you, John." He spoke with an accent, a slight brogue that he picked up from the Earth cities he grew up in, Berlin and Dublin.

"Let me look at you, boy," he said, still smiling, his hands on Shepard's shoulders, while his blue eyes looked over his son. His smile faltered when his eyes met the scars that went up Shepard's neck and cheek. "What did you do, John?" His hand dropped from Shepard's shoulder, placing it on his chin so that he could better examine his scars. "Did you try to shave with an omni-blade?"

"It's nothing, dad," Shepard replied, swatting his dad's hand away. He met his father's eyes, the eyes he inherited, and knew his father wasn't convinced, but thankfully, his dad had the understanding not to press.

"Very well, John," he said, his smile returning, before engulfing his son into another hug. "It's so good to see you," he repeated, patting his son's back. For the two Shepard men, it was a time to lower their stoic personalities, and rejoice in their long overdue reunion.

In that moment, Shepard didn't have to think about the Suicide Mission, he didn't have to think about Cerberus. He could let go of his fears of the Reapers, release his frustrations about the Alliance. Comforted by his father's embrace, coupled with his words, Shepard was able to find a momentary refuge. In that brief instance, he was just John Shepard, son of Hannah and Benjamin Shepard, who loved history, and his biggest problems were trying to pass his math and science classes. And just as fast as the moment had come, it vanished for the two Shepard men.

His father hesitantly broke the embrace. His hands remained on his son's arms. In his father's eyes, Shepard could see they were wet with unshed tears. "I would've understood, son." He dropped his hands from Shepard's arms, before gesturing to the booth that he had been sitting at.

Still reflecting on his father's words, Shepard slid into one side of the booth, while his father slid into the other. The latter sensing his son's confusion, expanded on his vague remark. "You didn't have to fake your death."

"Fake my death?" repeated a confused Shepard.

He nodded, "yes, fake your death to maintain your undercover work for Cerberus."

"I didn't fake my death, dad," Shepard said, not blaming his father for the scenario he had come up with. It was an easier story to believe that his death was faked to protect his Cerberus cover than the actual truth. That he was killed and that Cerberus spent a fortune, and two years to bring him back to life. Reflecting on the two scenarios, Shepard couldn't help but see the latter being more far-fetched than the former.

Ben's eyes widened, "You mean… you mean?"

He didn't let his dad finish, "Yeah, I was killed, dad. That part was always true."

"But…but how?"

"Cerberus brought me back to life, they rebuilt me," Shepard explained, sticking with the basics, knowing that he couldn't properly explain the tech and the science that was needed and used for the task of resurrecting him. "It took them two years and a fortune, dad, but it's me."

Ben Shepard rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his blue eyes surveying him, with the same intensity that he remembered his father used when he was on the bridge of his ship when giving out orders to his crew. "This sounds so far-fetched."

Shepard smiled, "I know, dad, but it's true."

His dad leaned back in his booth, with a pensive look, probably trying to digest all this new information.

"I'm sorry, I didn't put this in a message, dad," he apologized; knowing the difficulty he had in his attempts at trying to summarize the events that happened and to be able to properly convey them in that way to his father. Their messages had always been brief. He had never mentioned his resurrection or the Reapers for that matter. He didn't think he could give either topic its due in a messaging format. Not to mention, Shepard was wary with what he was inclined to share through the public channels that he and his father used to message one another.

"No, this is better," his dad leaned forward. He ran a hand through his short crop of brown hair. "It still doesn't make this any easier."

Shepard gave a weak chuckle, "You have no idea, dad."

"Have you contacted your mother?"

The mention of his mother caused Shepard's smile to dip into a frown. "I think mom's been pretending I've been dead since Torfan."

"That's not true, John," his father gently chided.

Shepard's relationship with his mother had always been troubled. She was the disciplinarian parent. She was aloof. She was the 'by the book Alliance Officer.' That was her only role, and when she acted as mother it was through this one demeanor-surly Alliance personnel. There was little affection shown, between mother and son. After Torfan, their relationship crumbled, broke beyond repair, his mother personally criticizing his action, and bemoaning his decision. For Hannah Shepard, it was easier for her to believe her son died on Torfan, than to think her son capable of the moniker he earned on that moon-The Butcher.

"Do we have to talk about her?" Shepard asked, from behind his menu. Looking over the top, he could see his father's disappointment, but before his father could further chide him, their waiter appeared, asking for their choice of beverage.

"I'll have water," his dad answered, politely, no trace of disappointment in his features or tone when speaking to their server.

"Me too," Shepard added, watching him leave to get their drinks.

"John?"

Shepard remained behind his menu, using it as a barrier between his father and himself. The first human Spectre had faced many things in his lifetime, pirates, husks, terrorists, geth, and mercenaries, but when it came to facing his father in those rare moments when he showed his anger or disappointment, that was what made Shepard squirm.

"She would want you to contact her."

Shepard snorted at that remark, not believing that for a second. He had a hard time thinking his mother would want to be contacted by her recently resigned Alliance son, who was now openly working with a known terrorist organization.

Ben Shepard sighed, "You two are so alike."

That got his attention. He cautiously peered over his menu to see his father looking both tired and amused.

"You two are so damn stubborn," he pointed out, blue eyes meeting blue eyes, he nodded when he saw Shepard shaking his head in disbelief, pointing a finger at him. "You two are goal oriented. You both carry this fire in striving to carry out your duties."

Shepard frowned, his menu slowly lowered, so that his face wasn't obstructed by it. He wasn't going to vocally admit it, but he did see a kernel of truth in his father's observations. However, Shepard wasn't good enough to cover up his expression from his father.

His dad smiled, knowing he had won the argument. "It's okay; we don't have to talk about it now." He picked up his menu, "but you should write to her."

He may have seen some truth in his dad's previous comparison. He didn't see any wisdom in writing to his mother. A staunch supporter of the Alliance, who surely would want to distance herself from her Cerberus associated son. Yet, Shepard also didn't want to continue this debate with his dad, who he hadn't seen in four years. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I'm asking," said a relieved Ben Shepard, who seemed pleased with his response. The Staff Commander shifted his attention back to his menu.

"How's _the Istanbul_?"

"She's good," answered the proud senior Shepard. "She's a fine ship with an admirable crew, a Commander couldn't ask for anything more."

Shepard nodded, pleased to hear that his father was continuing to enjoy active duty. Looking back at his menu, he tried to decide whether he'd rather have steak or the pasta when his father brought up the topic that he'd been most expecting besides Shepard's death.

"You could've been the youngest Rear-Admiral," his father observed in lieu of coming right out and asking about his decision to resign.

"I know."

"You were a Captain, John," his dad pointed out. "By all accounts, I should've saluted you upon seeing you. You are the senior officer between us."

"No, I'm not," dismissing his father's observation. The thought of his father saluting him was too ridiculous for him to fathom. His father may have been an Alliance officer, but when it came to his family, you were greeted with a hug, never a salute.

"That promotion wasn't based on merit. It was merely another decoration to put on my tombstone and title to add to the eulogy."

"That's not true," his father's voice took a stern edge to it. "You stopped the geth from invading the Citadel."

"I also got the Council killed."

"It was the right choice," his dad argued. "And they know it."

"That's not a popular view, dad."

"Damn it, John," his dad said, losing his usual calm demeanor. "Is your resignation some retribution to your wounded vanity and hurt pride after the closing weeks of the Battle?"

"No, dad," Shepard answered, between clenched teeth, getting upset and insulted at the mere suggestion that he would be so vain.

His father visibly relaxed at this admission. "I don't blame you, son." His shoulders tensed, his eyes looking distant, while his lips formed a thin disapproving frown. "I'm amazed the Alliance can get anything done. They seem more determined to please the polls than the actual people, whom they're supposed to be serving."

It was Shepard's turn to sigh, sharing his father's disappointment at the organization that both men had pledged to serve and both men had grown to admire. It seemed that they both had become disillusioned with the policy shift and the 'Council' politics that the Alliance seemed to put ahead of its original creed, defending humanity.

"This is why I wanted to meet with you, John," Ben Shepard said, looking the weary soldier, "to warn you."

"Warn me?" Shepard repeated, knowing that this must be serious, detecting the sincere concern in his father's voice.

"The Council and the Alliance are preparing to throw everything they have at you," he revealed. "They are bringing you up on charges of treason and terrorism."

Shepard brought his hands to his face, closing his eyes, and fighting off the number of feelings that were threatening to slip past his stoic demeanor. He was angry, frustrated, disappointed, and tired. He wasn't surprised at this move. He was expecting it after his resignation. He knew the Alliance would come for him, and when they did, they'd bring everything they had to bring him down.

"What can I get for you, gentlemen?" Their waiter was back to take their orders. The young man was oblivious to the serious and important conversation that he had just interrupted.

"I'll have the steak," Shepard murmured, his hands still covering his face. "I'll take it medium well." Once he gave his order, his thoughts drifted back to his father's revelation. He knew that Udina, the Human Councilor was behind this; manipulating the new Council, who were still very weak, and they heavily relied on the Alliance for protection.

"John?"

Shepard blinked, removing his hands from his face, "yeah?"

"You okay, son?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he rubbed his eyes. "You were just telling me about the Alliance's plans to dispose of me."

His dad frowned, probably not pleased with the casualness that he approached this serious topic. His father couldn't understand that with the Reapers, the Collectors, and this Suicide Mission, this Alliance and Council coalition was just another blip on Shepard's '_shit hit the fan'_ radar.

"They're assigning a Spectre to hunt you down."

"How do you know that?" Shepard asked, unsure how his father who was an Alliance Staff Commander would be privy to that sort of sensitive Council information.

"I know because this Spectre is an Alliance soldier."

"That means-"

"Yes, the second human Spectre," his dad finished. "No doubt, the Council and the Alliance are trying to alienate themselves from you."

"Who's the Spectre?"

"He's a former companion of yours."

"Alenko," Shepard scowled, his father confirmed his guess with a curt nod.

"Here we are, gentlemen," their waiter returned with their food. The two Shepard men who had their heads bowed, huddled over the table discussing privy intelligence; now casually leaned back, disengaging from their discussion and acting as if they were talking about something trivial, while giving their waiter a casual smile, when he passed out their food.

"Thank you," Shepard said when the waiter put down his plate in front of him. The rich aroma of his grilled steak tickling his nose, his stomach rumbled its approval. For a brief moment all thoughts about Alenko's betrayal and the Alliance's charges were forgotten as Shepard's hunger reared its head.

His dad had gotten the shepherd's pie with a pint to go with it.

Shepard began cutting up his steak, the sawing motion of his knife cutting through the charred meat was strengthened by his growing anger at being told that Kaidan had become a Spectre. He had the nerve to question and challenge Shepard on Horizon, but if it wasn't for him, Alenko never would have been recognized. He never would've become a Spectre. Kaidan didn't even deserve the honor. His promotion wasn't on merit, but politics.

"This isn't the life I wanted for you."

The combination of his father's words and the regretful tone that laced them caused Shepard to stop his inward ranting on his friend, and look up to see his father. Ben Shepard looked tired and drained, and for the first time Shepard could remember, his father looked vulnerable.

His dad's focus wasn't on Shepard, but on his shepherd's pie, picking pieces of it with his fork. "I never wanted you to join the Alliance, son."

Shepard frowned, never remembering his dad speaking so candidly about his decision to join up with the Alliance. He had always thought his father was proud and happy with his choice to enlist.

"I chose that life, because I had nothing," he continued, taking a bite from his fork. "The Alliance gave me everything, son, a life, a future, your mother, and you."

"So why didn't you want me to join?"

He picked up another piece of his pie with his fork, looking up at his son as he brought the fork to his mouth. "Because I wanted you to have a peaceful life, son," He paused so that he could chew and didn't continue until he swallowed. "I wanted you to have friends, your own family, security, and most importantly, I wanted you to have stability. These were things I didn't have growing up, and these were things that I couldn't give you as you grew up."

He put his fork down beside the leftovers of his shepherd's pie. His eyes on him, "Whatever happened to your dream of becoming a teacher?"

Shepard stirred in his seat, feeling slightly embarrassed at the mention of this particular childhood dream. It was true, that at a certain point growing up amidst two Alliance parents, Shepard wanted to teach history, somewhere on a far off distant colony. The now first human Spectre and Hero of Elysium had never wanted to be a soldier, growing up. He wanted a career in his first love-history.

Not knowing how to respond to his father's confession, Shepard turned his attention to his steak. He had barely touched his dinner, and wanted to rectify that. He stabbed at a piece of cut-up steak.

His father took the initiative of continuing the conversation. "However, looking back at all you've accomplished, all the lives you've saved, the impact you have made, I cannot fault your decisions."

Shepard, who was chewing, looked to see his dad's stare had not wavered, remaining on him. He could tell his father was proud of him, and what he had accomplished as a soldier and a Spectre, and yet he could also see that his father was torn on the life he wanted Shepard to have and the life Shepard chose to live.

"I just want you to find some peace and happiness, son."

At the words of peace and happiness, a certain Cerberus operative drifted into Shepard's thoughts. Seeing her smile, her sparkling blue eyes, hearing her laugh, and even listening to her soft snores in the night, Shepard knew he was experiencing the peace and happiness that his father wanted for him. However, these precious moments he shared with Miranda, that he coveted, were only experienced in small doses. They were casually interrupted with Reapers and Collectors and all other kinds of calamity that threatened their lives each and every day. That was what he wanted, a life with Miranda, without the threat of the Reapers looming over them.

"Thanks, dad," he said, looking up and giving his father a thankful smile. A smile his father returned, the two Shepard men fell into a comfortable silence as both men tried to finish their meal.

"What about the Alliance?" He asked, knowing his father had taken a risk in seeing him, especially if the Alliance and the Council were preparing charges to levy on him.

"You are my son," he answered, as if sensing Shepard's concern for the risk he took.

"Dad-" Shepard began, but his father cut him off.

"No, John," he said firmly. "If I have to resign over this mess they're creating, than the Alliance will get my resignation tomorrow."

Touched by the sincere intensity that his father used to make his declaration, Shepard only nodded his thanks and appreciation to his father. Unsure if he could properly express how thankful he was to his father for standing up for him.

"I thought you'd be more upset with me working with Cerberus," Shepard observed, realizing that his father had yet to mention his son's decision to work with a known terrorist organization.

His father flashed him a smile, picking at the remnants of his pie, "I trust you, son." He picked up a piece of the flaky crust with his hand. "I trust your judgment." He bit into the crust. "This has to do with these Reapers, right?"

In that moment, Shepard silently held a debate wondering how much he should talk about the very alienating topic. It was not something he had shared with him, in any of their messages.

"Yeah," Shepard answered.

His dad nodded, understanding in his eyes, "I read the Alliance report after the battle."

"Oh?" Shepard had no doubt that the report didn't portray him in a very flattering light. "What did you think?"

"It sounds like some far-fetched piece of science fiction," his dad stated bluntly, taking a generous sip of his pint. His blue eyes looking over the glass at his son, "Then again, you've never lied to me before."

"So you believe me?" he asked, hope seeping into his voice.

"I'd rather not," he put the glass down. "It would make sleeping a lot easier." He favored his son a smile; it was a smile that Shepard easily returned.

He felt a sense of relief and gratefulness fill him at the idea that his father believed him. He knew he was acting more like the young boy, who while growing up had often come to his father for support and comfort. Rather than the hardened soldier he was. Yet, in that moment he didn't care. He had his father's support, and to Shepard that meant more to him than having both the Alliance and the Council in his corner.

His father seemed to be thinking along those lines. "Though, I can't offer you the ships and soldiers the Council or Alliance could."

Shepard laughed. "That's okay."

"Gentleman," Their waiter had returned, the young man interrupting the jovial mood between the two Shepard men. He presented them with the bill, before thanking them, and departing.

"Dad," Shepard began, seeing his father going for the bill. "I can pay for it."

"Nonsense," his dad dismissed his omni-tool aglow, so that he could pay. "I invited you, I should pay."

"You know, I do make money, too," Shepard pointed out wryly.

"I know that." His dad looked up from his omni-tool. His lips crooked upwards before adding, "So I'll be expecting something good for my birthday."

Shepard chuckled, shaking his head, and submitting to his father's insistence on paying the check.

"Damn, is that the time?" his father asked, looking at his omni-tool.

"Probably," Shepard shrugged, unsure if he should check his omni-tool, not wanting to cause any damage by accidentally discharging a VI drone or incinerate blast…

"I need to get going," his father said, his smile dipping into a frown, when his eyes met Shepard's. "Walk me out?"

"Yeah," Shepard replied, without hesitation, a bit disappointed that his time with his father was already at an end. He slipped out from his booth, stretching his arms over his head as he did, watching as his father pick up a parcel that had been sitting next to his father all this time. Something, Shepard hadn't even noticed.

His father seemed to sense Shepard's attention on the parcel, as he handed it to him, before he too slid out from his booth. "It's for you," he said, putting on his jacket.

Shepard took the package. It was heavier than he thought, holding it tentatively in his hand, "What is it?"

"Why don't you open it," his father chuckled, before beginning to make his way out of the restaurant.

One eye on where he was going, Shepard began to unwrap the package to see it was a box, he looked at his father expectantly, as if waiting for him to explain, but he didn't, his father only watched on; the corner of lips fighting hard to stay in a thin line, to show a thoughtful look, while his blue eyes shimmered in amusement.

Knowing, he wasn't going to get any answers from his father, Shepard removed the lid of the box. He couldn't believe it, allowing the smile to blossom on his lips at the sight of his old N7 leather jacket. It was a bit frayed, but the black leather was still in good shape as he carefully removed the jacket from the box to inspect it, red lines went up the sleeves, the N7 patch on the chest, and the sleek stylish look of the jacket was just as he remembered all those years ago, when he had gotten it after graduating from N7 training.

It was a coveted designation that few had been able to achieve. It is also the only ICT designation that could be worn, to signal your success, in his youth he wore this jacket constantly, as bragging rights of what he was able to accomplish. It didn't hurt that he had been able to pick up quite a few women at the Alliance bars, who were drawn to the N7 patch like a moth to a flame.

Shepard smiled at the memories, his fingers running over the smooth surface of the leather, before looking up to see his father watching fondly. Shepard had been the first in his family to achieve the designation, remembering how proud his father and mother were the day he told them the good news.

"Thanks, dad," he said, slipping first his right arm and then his left arm into the jacket, adjusting the collar and was very pleased to see that it still fit like a glove.

"You're welcome," his father said, looking and sounding pleased at his reaction to the gift. He had taken the box from Shepard, when he wanted to try the jacket on, "After your death, your mother and I received all of your possessions. And I thought you might want some of these mementos back."

Shepard still wearing his N7 jacket noticed there were more little keepsakes and tokens inside. So engrossed by the jacket and the box, Shepard didn't even notice that his father's cab had arrived and was waiting patiently. He took the box from his father, closing the lid, knowing he'd look at the contents when he was back on-board _the Normandy._ The father and son exchanged another firm hug, putting their emotions into the embrace, knowing that it would be quite awhile before the two met in person again, but Shepard was determined to see him sooner rather than later.

"I'm proud of you, John," Ben Shepard said, smiling, clapping his son on the back, when they broke apart. "Don't ever forget that."

"I won't, dad," Shepard replied, trying to hide his disappointment that his reunion with his father had already come to an end. They shared one more hug, this one shorter than the previous one, before Shepard watched his father get into the cab and with a final wave, his speeder lifted off and ascended into the traffic of Nos Astra.


	9. 8: Strain

**We will Rise**

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Eight: Strain**

"Definitely like old times," Garrus shouted in a tone that strongly suggested the turian was reminiscing.

Miranda rolled her eyes. Leave it to them to fondly recollect their past in the middle of a firefight. They were bunkered down on Haestrom, deep within geth space. They had come to the planet in hopes of recruiting Shepard and Garrus' former companion—Tali.

So far, all they had found were quarian ruins, and lots of geth. What made matters worse was that they had to avoid direct sunlight. It seemed that Haestrom's sun had overwhelmed the planet's protective magnetosphere. So after a few minutes standing in the sunlight, the radiation exposure would overload your shields, caught in the direct path of the sunlight for too long and it will kill you.

She looked over the fallen pillar that she and Drek were crouching behind. She spotted Shepard and Shiala a few yards ahead of them. The two were taking shelter behind the foundation of a ruined building. She then looked up to see Garrus and Jacob advancing on the second floor, walking on a series of catwalks.

Shepard chuckled, his voice coming out raspy through the comm. "We got the final piece."

"Good," Miranda said, interrupting their banter. "Then let's head back to set the charges." The last of her words were drowned out by the roar of engines. It was a geth drop ship, dropping dozens of geth behind them.

"Damn," Drek cursed beside her, and Miranda knew why, their current position was to shield themselves from a frontal assault, and had come in handy when they were advancing, but now that the geth had dropped troops behind them. They were vulnerable. She and Drek scurried over the pillar just as the geth opened fire.

"Hold tight," Shepard said, "we're coming."

"Take your time," Drek growled; his focus on his omni-tool. He looked over their shelter towards a pair of advancing geth troopers. He pushed a button on his omni-tool and one of the geth immediately stopped, turned towards its partner and opened fire. "HA!" shouted a triumphant Drek.

Miranda silently had to give the batarian his due for his successful hacking job, watching as the geth he hacked not only destroy its partner, but it was now firing on two more geth troopers. It was when she was watching the hacked geth, did she notice something was off. She was sure she saw a reflection, or a shimmer caught in the sunlight, but when she looked in the direction there was nothing there. That didn't bring comfort, her gut was telling her something was off. Something was approaching her and Drek's position…

"We got a geth hunter!"

"I see it, I see it," was Garrus' reassuring reply, the turian sniper was above them. A second later, he fired three quick rounds. The geth materialized to show its smoldering body, unable to take another step before collapsing.

"Damn, I am good."

"We know, Garrus," replied Shepard, making his presence known by opening fire with his assault rifle on the remaining pair of geth troopers; mowing down the first one in a matter of seconds. The second one was able to return fire, causing Shepard to scurry behind a wall and out of sight.

Having enough of watching, Miranda called on her biotics, allowing herself to be enveloped by the dark energy. She stood up; whipping her hand forward she sent a biotic warp towards the unsuspecting geth trooper. It was a direct hit. The geth crumpled to the ground.

"Get down!" shouted Drek.

She did, just missing a rocket that sailed over their position before impacting a safe distance behind them and exploding. The missile would've hit her square in the chest if she had still been standing. She turned to the batarian, who favored her with a smile. She let loose a tired breath from her biotics, as the energy waned, before disappearing with a soft crack.

"We got more geth troopers," Jacob pointed out.

"Yeah, we got that," Drek replied sardonically.

"I have it." That was Shiala. The green skinned asari charging the geth trooper that had fired on Miranda. Before the trooper could so much as turn to face her, Shiala had it in a biotic lift. The trooper floating higher and higher, as it kicked and squirmed in the air to try to free itself from the envelopment. Two shots from Garrus' sniper rifle stopped its struggling. The envelopment was lifted and the geth collapsed to the ground, a few feet away from Miranda and Drek's position.

"Like shooting cats in a barrel."

"No, Garrus," Shepard's voice broke in. "Not cats, its fish: Like shooting fish in a barrel."

There was a pause. "Oh," replied Garrus. "I don't think I'm ever going to get these human sayings."

"Never mind that," Miranda interrupted the two. "This trivial conversation can wait, we have more pressing matters."

"She's right," Jacob said. "There's another dozen or more geth coming this way."

"That few?" was Shepard's reply. "I think Saren spoiled us."

"That's right," agreed Garrus. "After having an army of geth thrown at us, a dozen geth doesn't seem that bad at all."

"That's good," Jacob said, "because there's at-least a handful up here with us."

Miranda could hear the firefight above them to confirm his report. Movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention away from the battle above and towards her left, to see a plume of flames was coming right at them.

"Time to go," she said to the batarian, who had been too preoccupied with his tech attacks to see the flames. She and Drek scurried away from the pillar, just as the flames scorched the stone. However, they were far from safe. They had been flanked, and caught out in the open. They were vulnerable to not just the geth destroyer, but to any remaining geth.

"Over here," Shiala was waving them over. She was standing behind a row of crates, her biotics giving her a bluish glow.

Neither Miranda nor Drek needed to be told twice, the pair running over towards the green skinned asari. Aware of the advancing geth destroyer and its flamethrower that continued to spit flames towards them; Miranda could feel the immense wave of heat wash over her back. She was the first to reach the crates, and Drek followed right behind her, sliding behind the make shift barrier.

She already had her pistol out, peaking out over the crates to see the approaching towering geth destroyer. She looked back at her pistol, knowing that it wouldn't be enough to get past that geth's shields or armor. She wasn't the only one who noticed that.

"I have an idea," Drek said, going to his omni-tool, before she could ask what the batarian was planning, he had summoned his combat drone. It appeared right behind the geth destroyer. The puny drone was no match for the heavily armored geth, giving the destroyer a sudden shock to get its attention. The destroyer stopped from advancing towards their current position to turn and face the drone. And that was where Miranda saw the brilliance in the batarian's plan.

With the destroyer's back to them, the flamethrower tanks were exposed. Not needing to be told what next to do, Miranda took aim and fired. Taking only three shots before the geth destroyer exploded in a blossom of flames, as the surrounding area was showered with smoldering geth parts.

"Bad asses—one," Garrus recounted, "geth—zero."

Miranda resisted the urge to scold the turian for his levity. Sadly, she had grown accustom to his joking. No matter how dire or dangerous their situation seemed, Garrus and Shepard, never saw a need not to make their 'jokes.' Instead, she put her attention to something useful; looking over the crates to see Garrus had spoken true. The remaining geth had been dealt with.

"We should get moving," she suggested, standing up and making her way towards Shepard, Garrus, and Jacob, as she walked, she was careful to avoid direct sunlight. "There's no telling when that drop ship will be back with more geth troops."

"Agreed," Shepard said, "let's set the charges."

"And rescue a friend," Garrus added.

* * *

><p>After setting off the demolition charges, and having to fight through a swarm of geth recon drones, and a persistent but powerful geth prime, Miranda and the others finally reached their destination. Unfortunately there was a small army of geth forces between them and their target—Tali.<p>

After getting a layout of the battlefield from the last remaining survivor of the quarian unit that had went with Tali; Shepard decided to split the squad up. He elected for Garrus, Jacob, and Shiala to take the catwalks to the right, believing the high ground coupled with the sniper perch would serve as a good vantage point to provide plenty of assistance. Shepard also seemed to hope that by splitting their squad, they'd have a better chance of flanking the main obstacle between them and Tali, namely the geth colossus. This also meant that their squad: she, Shepard, and Drek would probably face the brunt of the attack as they made their way forward to attack the first wave of geth before moving to the left to avoid being hit from the colossus.

"Damn," Drek shouted, the batarian scurrying for cover to avoid a barrage of bullets from incoming geth troopers. Miranda and Shepard were right behind him, joining him behind the makeshift barrier of a turned over pillar.

"You have to think this information is important," the batarian remarked, "For them to risk so many of their soldiers."

Miranda saw the logic in the batarian's observation, and had drawn similar conclusions as they fought their way through the geth. She believed that the information that the quarians were gathering had to do with Haestrom's sun. She remembered from Tali's dossier, it mentioning that this quarian outpost had been originally built to house a survey team so that they could study the mysterious instability of Haestrom's sun. Even back then it was giving clear warning signals that it was threatening a premature eruption into a red giant.

"Shepard, try something from your omni-tool," suggested Drek.

"Good idea," he replied, going to his omni-tool, he entered a command, before looking up to see if it had any effect on the two approaching geth troopers. It didn't.

"Is that a soft beeping noise, I hear?" Miranda asked crouching on Shepard's other side.

"Oh," Shepard was frowning. "That's my alarm clock." He gave a weak chuckle, "I must have entered the wrong command."

Miranda resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the Commander's continued ineptness at his omni-tool. She realized that if they had to wait for Shepard's tech skills to save them, then they'd be waiting for a very long time. Always one to take the initiative she brought up her own omni-tool entering the proper command. She looked up from their shelter to see the overload worked. The pair of troopers' shields both went down. Shepard and Drek were quick to finish them off, the former with his rifle, and the latter with his shotgun.

"Now this I can handle," Shepard said, referring to his assault-rifle. "Now, come on let's get moving." He stood from their pillar, racing to the next barrier, a derelict quarian machine, long been abandoned. Miranda and Drek were right behind him, getting down in time to avoid a deadly barrage from the colossus' main cannon.

"I hate those things," Shepard grumbled. "Makes me wish I had the Mako with me."

"The Mako?" repeated a confused Miranda; unsure what use that outdated vehicle would have in this sort of firefight.

"Yeah," he answered, looking surprised that she needed an explanation. "During the campaign against Saren, I can't count the number of times I encountered those damn things and the best way to deal with them was to simply run them over with the Mako."

"Are you serious?" she asked incredulously. She had a feeling that driving a Mako into a geth colossus would not be considered a pleasurable experience. "And you wonder why they still don't let you drive?"

Shepard chuckled, "Fair enough."

"Shepard, how are you holding up?" It was Garrus. His voice crackled over the comm.

"No complaints," answered Shepard, "since we're taking the brunt of the damage."

"Up top is all clear," Garrus observed, "giving us time to enjoy this splendid view of all these… ruins."

Miranda sometimes had to wonder how these two had gotten anything done during their fight against Saren. It seemed they spent more of their energy exchanging jokes, and creating new ones, then actually focusing on fighting. She was about to once more cut into this chatter, to tell them to focus on the mission at hand, but another voice came over the comm.

"Shepard, I have the colossus in clear sight," Jacob reported, "permission to engage hostile?"

He didn't answer right away, looking over at their barrier to see they still had a stretch of corridor to go before reaching the geth colossus. Not to mention another handful or more of hostile geth between them and their target.

"Negative," he answered, "We're not in position, yet."

"Understood, Commander," Jacob said.

"We'll continue to draw out some of the forces to our position," Garrus added.

"Appreciated," Shepard replied, turning his attention back to their squad. "Drek, do you mind handling those two geth?"

"Yeah, yeah," Drek said, entering a new command onto his omni-tool. He sent out an incendiary blast towards the closest geth trooper, causing a shower of sparks and flames that signaled the fiery blast had hit its mark.

"I got the last one," Shepard said, going to his omni-tool.

"Shepard," Miranda warned, not knowing what to expect from him when it came to trying to use his newly upgraded omni-tool.

He waved her off before entering a command, and to Miranda's surprise, his own combat drone appeared in front of the geth trooper, shocking it.

"Not bad, Shepard," Drek whistled, standing up from his position, and opening fire on the weakened geth. It only took two shots before the geth was destroyed. Yet, Shepard's combat drone wasn't finished; it turned on their position and began drifting towards them. "Okay, Shepard, shut it down."

"Ugh, right," the Commander replied, typing in the commands in his omni-tool, but the drone didn't seem to respond since it continued towards them.

Miranda was about to discharge an overload command to finish off Shepard's rogue drone, but she wasn't fast enough, as it sent out another shock. Its attack went over their heads; Miranda thought it missed its target until she saw smoke, a geth hunter materializing right behind them. In that brief second, she realized that Shepard's little drone had saved them.

"Shit," Drek cursed, spinning around to finish off the weakened geth hunter with another incendiary attack, neutralizing the threat.

Shepard chuckled, his eyes on his omni-tool, as he shut down his drone.

"What's so funny?" Drek asked, the batarian legionnaire turning his four eyes on the Commander.

"It's nothing," he tried to dismiss, but he must have sensed that Drek wasn't satisfied since he relented. "It's just that in some human languages your name means shit," he paused, his smile intact, "So in other words you just said—Oh, drek."

When neither of them responded, his smile faltered, "What? I thought it was funny."

Drek didn't seem particularly impressed. "You should hear what your name means back on Khar'shan."

"Does it mean noble soul?" Shepard asked, his smile returning.

The batarian shook his head, but was unable to conceal his own amusement, cracking a smile, "you can be real annoying. Did you know that, Shepard?"

"That's just part of my charm, Drek," he assured him.

"I hate to disrupt this conversation," Miranda drawled. "But we still have that geth colossus to take down."

"She's right, Shepard."

"Then let's get moving."

* * *

><p>Miranda remained quiet during the reunion between Shepard and his friend, Tali. Silently watching the Quarian interact with not just Shepard and Garrus, but even exchanging a few words with Shiala. It seemed the two had met during Shepard's mission to Feros.<p>

"Always coming to your rescue, Tali," Garrus joked, getting a laugh from Shepard and Tali.

"That's true," she admitted, "but if I recall correctly, I was able to take down half of those mercenaries in the wards before you showed up."

"You know Garrus, Tali," Shepard put in. "Always has to crouch behind something."

This earned further laughter from the three friends. Miranda had to admit that the reunion was going better then she had suspected, remembering Shepard's brief interactions with the quarian on Freedom's Progress. Tali had hugged him, but her tone was terse, not holding back her opinion when it came to Cerberus, as she chided him for working for the pro-human organization. It hadn't been a particularly pleasant conversation to watch.

Miranda had found Tali's view on Cerberus a bit hypocritical. Since as quarians were they not raised to look out for their fellow people first and foremost? Their primary objectives had always been to strengthen their fleet, arm their people, and retake their home world, no matter the cost. Their priorities had always been quarian first, galaxy second.

She could sense the quarian staring at her. Even though she couldn't see past Tali's faceplate, and was no expert on quarian body language, but Miranda was smart enough to know that the quarian was not very pleased with her presence, detecting hostility radiating off of her.

It was Tali, who turned away first, pointing a finger at Miranda and Jacob, "So you're still working with them?"

"And you're still managing to get your squad killed," Miranda said, knowing she hit a nerve when the quarian visibly bristled. She could feel Shepard staring at her, he was most likely upset at her for her remarks, but she didn't care. She knew she was right in her observations. In the two missions they had saved Tali from, both times the quarian had lost the majority of the marines placed under her leadership.

"You-"

"Now, now," Garrus stepped in, putting a hand on Tali's shoulder. "We're all on the same team this time, Tali."

The quarian's anger at Miranda was redirected towards Garrus. "You can't be serious!"

"That's enough, Tali."

"Shepard, if you-"

"No," He cut in, not allowing Tali to finish. "I am sick and tired of people trying to lecture me and all the while they try to shove their _unbiased _opinions down my throat."

H cut the distance between himself and Tali, putting his hands on her shoulder, so that she would look at him. His tone and expression instantly softening with his next words. "I need you, Tali, but if you'd rather stay away from this mission, I… I'd understand."

"Of course, I'll fight for _you_, Shepard."

Shepard seemed to visibly relax with her decision to join him. A smile coming to his lips, "good, because it wouldn't be the same without you."

"I trust you," she reassured him, before turning towards Miranda and Jacob, "It's them I don't trust."

"This is the second time Operatives Taylor and Lawson have saved you. It wouldn't hurt to show them a little bit of gratitude."

Miranda watched Tali turn to Shepard. She was sure the quarian was gaping at the Commander, but her faceplate hid the quarian's dismay. However, Tali's protest was never heard when a new voice entered the conversation.

"Ma'am," It was the last surviving marine in Tali's unit. If Miranda could remember right, his name was Kal'Reegar. He was limping as he entered the room, his hand clutching his side. She remembered him mentioning being shot during the firefight.

"Reegar?" Tali replied, sounding pleasantly surprised, as she approached the wounded marine. "You…you made it?"

He gestured to Shepard, "Your old captain's as good as you said. Damn colossus never stood a chance."

"I'm going with them, Kal," Tali said softly.

He nodded, "Then I'll pass the data to the Admiralty Board."

"Thank you, Kal."

Miranda watched the exchange between the two quarians with some interest. It was difficult to read the quarians' countenance because of their faceplates, but she was sure she was picking up on something from their tones. A level of respect was obvious, but perhaps it went deeper than that…

"Keep her safe, Shepard."

"I will," he replied.

* * *

><p>With both the Alliance and the Council forces looking for Commander Shepard, it would seem impossible for him to land on the Citadel undetected. Yet, with Cerberus informants within C-Sec, and other important positions within the Citadel such as traffic control. <em>The Normandy<em> had been able to do just that, successfully docking in a privately owned sector, under a false name and ID number. Shepard was willing to take these risks at being caught because he had promised to help out fellow companions Garrus Vakarian, and Thane Krios.

Miranda Lawson had elected to stay behind. The XO of _the Normandy_ was currently in her office enjoying a peaceful silence while she went through some of her messages. This included sending a message to her sister.

_Her sister, _a smile slipped past her icy demeanor at the thought of Oriana. Remembering how insistent she was in wanting to remain in the shadows when it came to her sister's life. She had accepted long ago that she could never have a normal life, and she was fine with that, but she had been determined to make sure her sister could at-least have it. Miranda was afraid and equally concerned that introducing herself into Oriana's life would make that difficult. Yet, she had been persuaded by Shepard to give it a try, and now that she had talked to her sister, and continued to keep in touch with her, she knew that he had been right.

The thought of Shepard brought Miranda's attention to some of his files that she had recently uncovered. Even though he wasn't much of a tech savant, the Commander had gone to some length to try to keep these files private. It was by accident that she had uncovered them; a program built into the terminals in _the Normandy _to notify her under certain circumstances. And whatever he had put in those files had been flagged and sent to her private inbox to check. What she had found had been unexpected.

Shepard was developing strategies and contingency plans for the Reapers. He was preparing for their arrival. He had intricate plans laid out depending on what relays the Reapers would come in, tactics written up, maps drawn, as he tried to outline proper strategies to contain them. Within these plans were detailed notes, including warnings such as avoiding direct confrontation with them, not to throw entire fleets at Reapers.

_It would be disastrous for us to engage Reaper armada head-on. Sovereign, alone was able to destroy most of the Citadel Fleet. They will try to lure us into direct confrontations. They will prey on our emotions-fear, anger, pride, besieging our planets, and butchering our populations to try to bring our fleets out in the open to defend our worlds. In order to win this war, we must comprehend the scale of the sacrifice we need to make. Billions of lives will be lost even if we do achieve victory. Therefore, we must prepare ourselves for the inevitable. _

It was remarkable. Miranda was amazed at the level of detail that he had been putting into these strategies. He listed planets, colonies, and ranking their importance to the respected species that inhabited them. As if he understood that it would be impossible to protect all of them, knowing that sacrifices needed to be made in order to prevail against the Reapers. He ranked entire systems, placing importance on not just population, but resources, and other important tangibles.

Under resources, he was categorizing what resources the armies would need to survive in a prolonged war against the Reapers. Yet, it wasn't just humanity or the Alliance that he was considering, having drawn up equally impressive lists for the turians, the krogan, the salarians, the asari; even the batarians and rachni were being considered. It was not just their resources that he was putting into account, he was also listing strengths and weaknesses, making numerous notes on how best to use each species. In some cases, you could see the cold reality in some of his decisions, listing planets rich in resources, and other important materials over some colonized worlds.

He was even beginning to outline intricate maps of different star systems, trying to pick key areas for fleets to engage Reaper forces, as well as mapping out escape routes in case the Reapers became too much during any particular engagement. He also put into account remote locations within certain systems writing that it may help in trying to hide fleets from Reaper forces.

_It may be smart to abandon well known outposts or bases. Our records are bound to hurt us, especially if and when the Reapers get access to them—See Protheans and Ilos. We should set preliminary camps and outposts on uninhabited planets such as Chasca, Amaranthine, Eletania, Virmire... _

The amount of information was staggering. It had been impossible for Miranda to comb through the level of detail and information in her first attempt. Even after several attempts of reading through these files, she still was uncovering new information or details that she had overlooked in a previous read.

Shepard had also been reading up on not just the Alliance but the Council hierarchy. He added plenty of notes to these files, providing Miranda a glimpse of his thoughts and plans-

_May need to find way to bypass leadership to take command of forces personally. _That note had been attached to his files on the Alliance, its Parliament and Arcturus Station. _Insert military dictatorship if needed. In this time of war may be wise to set up a dictator-Rome Republic- With the promise to relinquish control of the military once the Reapers have been defeated. In order to properly defend or protect the Republic (Alliance Parliament) it may be practical to dismantle it._

_The Council may prove more difficult to take control of; may need to make alliances with certain politicians from each respectable species in order to ensure the Council responds appropriately to Reaper threat. Can also bypass Council and appeal directly to the planet's leadership, must also include alliances with the other Council client species-drell, hanar, volus, and elcor_

_If unable to secure said alliances, may be beneficial to put self forward as candidate for human councilor. Then with that access it would be simpler to take command of the Council and its forces. _

Not only was Shepard proposing taking over the Alliance military if necessary, but was considering how to put himself forward as human councilor to secure the Council and their forces. It wasn't out of ambition or a thirst for power, but out of need. He seemed determined to make sure competent people were put forward and placed in appropriate positions of power, mentioning Admiral Anderson as a possible replacement for Udina.

Miranda could see his struggles bleeding into his notes. She could see his uncertainty in some of his strategies, his entangled emotions with some of his proposals. It was clear that he was putting an excruciating amount of attention on even the minutest details.

_If a species refuses to help against the Reapers then they must be abandoned. We must sever all ties with them. Cut them off from ships, resources, troops, and supplies. If they do not wish to fight the Reapers with us, then we must allow them to perish against the Reapers alone._

None of these choices, contingencies, and strategies seemed easy for him to make or even suggest. At certain points in his notes, he pointed out the possibility of him making a mistake or an error in his calculation.

_Unsure if conventional victory against the Reapers is even possible. It's __unlikely,if not downright impossible, but at the moment its all we have to work with._This was featured throughout his files. Yet, even if it was impossible for conventionally victory, Shepard seemed willing to give it a try, believing it may be their only choice…

Sun Tzu's _The Art of War, _and Carl Von Clausewitz's _On War—_These were just two of the texts that Shepard seemed to be consulting when drawing upon his tactics in how to handle the Reapers. All of this seemed invaluable. The amount of the time, work, and energy that Shepard was putting into this was admirable. Especially since, when he wasn't working on these strategies, he was leading and preparing them for a suicide mission against the Collectors.

Yet, when it came to Shepard nothing should surprise her. This was why the Illusive Man had been adamant in bringing him back to life. He understood the brilliance that was Commander Shepard, and was determined to make sure that Shepard came back just as he was. No changes, no altercations to his personality, his memories, or his mind. He needed to be just the way he had been before his untimely death…

Miranda felt a lump forming in her throat at the reminder of his death. She was quick to push down the memories of her time at Lazarus that there threatening to surface. Clicking out of his files, but not before bookmarking where she had stopped, even with her growing relationship with the man, there was still no guilt at what she was doing. There couldn't be. She couldn't allow such emotions from interfering with her job, and her priority to continue to monitor his progress. Pushing back from her desk, she rubbed her eyes with her palms.

Deciding it may be better to take a break before continuing, she left her office to see several crew members were milling about just outside the mess hall area. She was about to ask what was going on, but familiar voices brought her eyes to look over the crew members to see Shepard and Garrus were arguing. Miranda knew at once that something was wrong. She could see it in their postures, knowing that something must have gone wrong during Garrus' mission for it to have spilled over back onto _the Normandy _in front of everyone.

The crew members were watching the argument with trepidation and curiosity. When they noticed she was among them, they immediately parted to allow her to pass. Miranda walked by them without a second glance, her attention on the Commander and the turian, the two friends in the corridor that led to the Normandy's Main Battery. As she got closer, she realized the two were not alone, Tali too was there, the shy quarian seemed unsure what to do or say to stop the them from arguing.

_First things first, _Miranda thought, slipping into the role of the Ice Queen of Cerberus, she turned her glacial stare to the crew. "Don't you all have work to do?"

None of them needed to be told twice, scurrying away in different directions all of them desperate to avoid her ire. Satisfied, she turned back to Shepard and Garrus, who were continuing to argue. Approaching them, she was finally able to hear what they were arguing about.

"You should've let me kill him!" Garrus jabbing a talon into Shepard's armored chest, "You had no right to stop me."

Shepard wasn't backing down. "I had every right to stop you."

"He was mine to kill!"

"You don't get it, Garrus-"

"No, you don't get it." Garrus interrupted Shepard. "He deserved to die. He needed to die."

"Let's calm down," That was Tali, the quarian in the middle of her two friends, trying to contain the argument and reel in the tempers. They were both ignoring her.

"How could you let him live," Garrus was shaking his head. "After you know what he did to me and my squad. "

"It was my call, Garrus."

Garrus didn't seem satisfied with Shepard's reasoning. "It wasn't your choice to make, Shepard. It was mine. And you let him get away."

Shepard pointed to the elevator, "Then go after him, I won't stop you this time!"

The turian scoffed, before shaking his head, he turned and headed into _the Normandy_ Main Battery.

"I…I'll try talking to him, Shepard."

"Thanks, Tali."

She patted Shepard's arm before following Garrus into the Main Battery of _the Normandy._

"Shepard?" Miranda made her presence known.

He turned on the spot to face her, looking surprised at her appearance, "How much of that did you hear?"

"All of it," she answered, "what happened?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his blue eyes surveying the mess hall area, "Not here."

She nodded, understanding his hesitance to divulge sensitive information in such a public place. She was about to suggest they speak in her office, but he seemed to have another idea, he went towards the elevator. She didn't miss a beat, falling in line behind him.

Thankfully, they didn't have to wait for the elevator since it was already on the Third Deck, he stepped in first, pushing the Deck One button, just as she got in. The door of the elevator was about to close, but the arrival of Crewman Hawthorne caused it to reopen. He was about to step in, but Miranda sent him an icy glare, causing him to rethink that decision. He let out a weak chuckle, before backing away from the elevator and out of sight. The elevator door closed without further delay.

"What happened, Shepard?" The elevator began its slow ascent to the top Deck of _the Normandy_.

"You saw what happened," he answered gruffly.

"I mean during the mission," she clarified.

"We found Sidonis. I was to draw him out into the opening so that Garrus could execute him with his sniper rifle at a safe distance."

"So how did you stop him?" she asked, having been around the turian long enough to know that his hatred towards this turian went down to his very bones.

"I kept myself between Sidonis and Garrus."

"That was stupid," she stated, knowing with Garrus' skill, the turian may still have risked trying to kill Sidonis even if Shepard was putting himself between the two turians.

"I never said it wasn't."

The soft _bing_ of the elevator broke through their conversation; he exited first, and she was right behind him. Their conversation on pause as they entered his cabin, she stayed by his desk, while he went down the step, opening his closet.

"So why did you do it?" she asked. "Why did you deny him justice?"

He looked up, "Garrus wasn't seeking justice. He was seeking vengeance." Shepard was beginning to take his armor off piece by piece. "I didn't want Garrus to lose himself." He tossed his gauntlets onto his bed. "Killing Sidonis wouldn't have quenched his growing thirst for vengeance it only would've made it worse. He…He would've regretted it."

"I...I think you're right," she admitted after a slight pause. She remembered feeling a similar sense of anger at Niket for betraying her and Oriana to their father. She had wanted to kill him, she wanted blood for what he did, but her retribution too had been stopped by Shepard. She had been furious with him, especially after having to watch that asari bitch kill Niket only seconds later, but in the end, she recognized the wisdom in his warning.

"Thanks," he said, slipping off his chest-plate to show he was wearing a simple N7 tee. "I appreciate that." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

She returned his smile, but meeting his blue eyes, she could see a growing storm of pent up emotions struggling to breakthrough. She had a growing suspicion that there was something else troubling him. "What is it, Shepard?"

"It's nothing." He then tossed his gauntlets into his closet with a bit too much force, further solidifying Miranda's suspicion that something else was bothering him.

"John?"

"What?" he asked sounding exasperated.

"Talk to me," she replied not backing down even after noticing his gaze had sharpened, and his countenance had hardened. "Please."

His expression softened, "I'm sorry," he shook his head, running his hands over his face. "It's just being back on the Citadel, listening to the news. The Alliance and the Council are more concerned with me then they are with the Reapers."

She couldn't blame him for his anger or his frustration. She too was upset with how the leaders of the galaxy were taking the Reaper threat. Yet, she was less disappointed than Shepard, she expected the politicians of the Alliance to do little when it came to addressing the Reapers. This was why she was with Cerberus. The inaction of the Alliance further solidified her belief that Cerberus, not the Alliance had humanity's best interest.

Her musings were interrupted by a loud thud. She looked up to see it was Shepard. He had tossed his greaves into his closet.

"The Reapers are coming," he was saying, as he went over to pick up his chest plate from his bed. "And it feels like I'm the only fucking person trying to stop them!" He shoved his chest plate into his closet not seeming to care that he was scuffing it, or the fact that it wasn't going to fit.

"You're not alone, Shepard."

That gave him pause. He turned to her his expression clouded over by his frustrations, the scars that covered his left side of his face and neck, giving off an orange glow. His chest heaving, he was taking deep breaths, traits of his pent up anger that he had been bottling up inside, causing her to wonder how long he had been keeping these feelings inside.

Seeing him like this stirred something within her. They both prided themselves on their independence, masking their problems behind stoic masks. They buried their fears. They bottled up emotions, forcing them deep within. All the while they struggled alone to try to control their own problems. They didn't allow others to help them, because they both understood the importance in projecting strength and confidence.

All her life she had thought it was better to be independent, alone, with no emotional attachments, she had thought that had given her strength. Yet, when her world was crumbling, and her fear growing over the safety of her sister, it was Shepard and his willingness to help her that showed her how wrong she had been. She had never been strong by being alone; she had only been fooling herself. And just as Shepard had been there for her in her moment of weakness, she would be there for him in his. It wasn't words that Miranda Lawson was comfortable with, but actions.

She went to him, bringing her hands to his cheeks, cupping his face. She leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips, eliciting a satisfied groan from him, and she felt a growing warmth in her chest when the kiss deepened, letting a low moan of approval pass through her lips. When her fingers idly touched the outline of his scars that covered the left side of his face, he instantly broke contact; jerking away from her, while his hand shot up to grab hers to remove it from his face.

"Miranda," he said through clenched teeth.

"Shepard, its fine," she tried to reassure him, aware that he was embarrassed at his scars.

His scars were giving off a slight orange tinge. He must have seen her eyes go to them, since his hand went to his face, tentatively running his fingers along the outlines of his scar. "You know what Chakwas told me?"

"What?"

"That in order for them to heal, I needed to be…compassionate," he snorted, shaking his head. "She told me that it was my morality or lack thereof that was causing them to remain." He brushed past her going up the step, his eyes on his aquarium which was surprisingly filled with a handful of fish, all of whom looking completely healthy.

Miranda wasn't surprised by this news, remembering reading Chakwas' report on the subject a few days ago. She went up the step, her eyes on his reflection through the glass of the aquarium. "You don't believe her?"

"We're going up against an enemy that doesn't have morality!" Shepard growled, the glow in his scars prickled, "When the Reapers come, there will be no honor, there will be no pity. There will be no compassion. There is no high ground. If we have any chance of beating them then we must use any method available to us or we will perish."

Hearing the absoluteness in his tone in how to beat the sentient machines reminded her of the plans and strategies he was drawing up. The difficult choices he was contemplating, the realization that he wouldn't be saving everyone, and that heavy sacrifices were needed to be made in order to defeat the Reapers. Before her, Miranda could see a man burdened with the survival of the galaxy on his shoulders. A pressure that would've broke any other; this further proved the testament of Shepard's strength of will.

He brought his hands to the glass of his aquarium. "I have a duty, Miranda." His tone losing its hard edge. "It's not always popular and it hasn't always been easy." He sighed, his fingers tracing the outline of his scars from the reflection of the glass. "But I will see it through." His eyes left his reflection and went to hers.

"I know you will," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder, "but you won't be doing it alone."

He turned to her; gratefulness shimmering in his blue eyes. His hands went to her hips, pulling her closer to him. His lips then captured hers in a heated kiss, she responded to the kiss before deepening it, feeling a coil of heat wrap itself around her insides.

"What would I do without you?"

She gave him a playful smile. "You'd be dead, remember?"

He returned her smile, before running a hand through his hair, "Yeah that sounds about right." He brushed his lips over hers, "I'm going to speak with Garrus." He then pulled away from her, but she could see his hesitation to do so. The door of his room opening upon sensing his presence, but before he left, he turned back to her, "Thank you, Miranda," he paused, as if trying to find the right words to say or to summarize his appreciation for her, but he didn't need to because she could see it in his eyes, in his expression.

"For everything." And then he was gone.

"No, Shepard," she said to the empty room. "Thank you."


	10. 9: Trust

**We will Rise**

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Nine: Trust**

_Tuchanka…_

Shepard had only been on the krogan homeworld for two days, and he would be thankful if he never had to come back. During his short stay, he only had to fight packs of rabid varren, klixen, a thresher maw, and a small army of Blood Pack mercenaries.

Now, thankfully, his time on the planet was at an end. The rest of his squad already returned to _the Normandy, _but not him. There was still one thing he had to do before he took the shuttle back to the ship. He had to speak with his friend—Wrex.

As Shepard waited for him to arrive, he thought back to why he was requesting this private audience with his friend. It was during his mission to help Mordin that Shepard discovered a startling revelation. The Professor's former colleague—Maelon had been working extensively on trying to find a cure for the genophage. He wasn't there yet, but he was closer than anyone has been since Saren.

It had been thought that Maelon was a captive of Clan Weyrloc, held against his will, but when it was revealed that he was actually a willing participant, Mordin had been visibly shaken. In his anger, he had even tried to kill Maelon, but Shepard had stopped him. Mordin tried to justify his actions, but his words weren't as forceful as they had once been, his tone no longer held the same confidence. And Shepard knew why—the test subjects.

Mordin had been unable to comprehend the waste of life. To Shepard, he thought Mordin was being a bit naïve in being surprised that female krogan would willingly volunteer for these brutal experiments. He had been unable or unwilling to see the ramifications that the genophage was having on the supposed 'innocent' krogan. When he talked about the genophage and his work, he had never stopped to think on how the others would react. Mordin had never considered that infertile female krogan would sacrifice their health, their bodies, and their life just at the glimmer of hope that they may be part of a cure.

This was why Shepard remained on Tuchanka while the others had gone back to _the Normandy._ He wanted to discuss what had happened to Clan Weyrloc and Maelon's research with Wrex. When he first broached the subject of speaking to Wrex, the krogan suggested to just speaking with him now at the dais. Shepard had to delicately decline. This was a very sensitive topic and it needed to be spoken in private. This wasn't a conversation that Shepard could afford to be eavesdropped.

Even as he waited, Shepard couldn't help but wonder if he was making the right decision. He understood the importance that this conversation may have; with ramifications that would be felt throughout the galaxy. As he waited, the memories of Virmire began to resurface. It was there that he had chosen to destroy the facility when it became known Saren had not only cured the genophage but was breeding an army of krogan.

If Shepard was honest with himself, he would admit his choice to take down the facility had less to do about the genophage and more about stopping Saren. It had to do with not trusting these krogan, who would serve under Saren's banner. This was different. This time the krogan wouldn't be tools to be used whether it was by Saren, the salarians, or the Council. Under proper leadership, Shepard was confident that the krogan could rebuild and reenter galactic politics. To Shepard the proper leadership was Wrex.

Despite his bloody and controversial history, Shepard was not going to condemn an entire species to extinction. He wouldn't do it with the rachni, and he was not going to do it with the krogan. While the civilized species in the galaxy had no qualms in continuing to keep the krogan down, it was the Butcher of Torfan who wanted to save them.

Shepard understood that his friendship with Wrex still didn't make what he was about to say any easier. This wasn't the first time that the two friends held a very important conversation about the krogan and the genophage. On Virmire, the two friends nearly came to blows in how to best handle the revelation that Saren had successfully cured the genophage. Shepard had no doubt that in the end; it was his friendship with Wrex and the trust that the two had built that caused Wrex to begrudgingly agree that the base needed to be destroyed.

Trying to relax his own nervousness at this pending conversation, Shepard focused on the room he was in. Well, if you could call this ruined room he was in a room. Parts of the ceiling had collapsed; chunks of the wall were missing, giving Shepard a good view of not just Urdnot's camp, but beyond to the ruined city and radioactive rubble stretching out to a vast, desolate wasteland. The floor was riddled with debris, not to mention the occasional bloodstain smears with some looking a bit too fresh for Shepard's liking. The room was bare of all furniture save for a workbench in the corner and a table made of stone which was anchored in the middle of the room.

"Shepard."

"Wrex."

"Sure you can't stay, Shepard?" Wrex asked, clapping him on the back when he walked past. "You've only been here a few days and you've already weakened one rival clan and practically destroyed another!"

The reminder of Shepard's clash against Clan Weyrloc when trying to liberate Maelon prompted him to ask about the clan's fate and its survivors, who were mostly non-combatants.

"Urdnot is taking in their women, and children, further bolstering our numbers."

_Good, _Shepard thought, unable to have asked for a better solution to present itself. He looked up to see Wrex was standing on the other side of the table, placing a box on top of it.

"This is for you, Shepard." Wrex tapped the small box with his fist.

Shepard hid his immediate surprise, "Aw, Wrex, you shouldn't have." Pleased, that Wrex took the ribbing with a chortle. He brought his attention back to the box, picking it up to examine it. He was not only curious at the idea of Wrex getting him a gift, but also what his friend would consider a good gift to be.

"It's meant to be opened."

Ignoring his friend's feigning impatience, and not needing any further encouragement, Shepard removed the lid of the box to see inside was a Death Mask. The famous battle helmets of the krogan.

"As a thank you, Shepard, for your work with my clan," Wrex said, "None of this would've been possible if it wasn't for you."

"Thanks, Wrex," Shepard said, sincerely thankful for the gift and the thought behind it. He tentatively picked up the helmet from its box, his eyes instantly going to the mask's trademark vertical slits for the eyes that gave off an ominous reddish glow. The head-crest between the slits was also red while the rest of the helmet was coated in black. "This…this is great."

"Good," Wrex said bluntly, but Shepard was sure the krogan sounded pleased that he liked the gift. "I had to have it custom made for your head. It was a pain in the ass."

"It's appreciated, Wrex," Shepard replied, still smiling. The Death Masks were a very famous or infamous kind of battle helmet depending on who you asked, that could be found throughout the galaxy for any number of species, but its design and origins can be traced back to the krogan on Tuchanka. Its unique and ominous look served as a good intimidating factor for them on the battlefield.

Inspecting the Death Mask, Shepard noticed two distinct patches on either side of the Death Mask. One he instantly recognized as the famous N7 logo, but the other he wasn't too sure. He ran his thumb along it, drawing Wrex's attention to it as well.

"That is for Clan Urdnot," Wrex explained. "Let it serve as reminder of your friendship with Clan Urdnot, and a warning to your enemies."

He wasn't an expert on the krogan, but Shepard understood the importance and the unprecedented achievement he accomplished, of being a human and bearing a krogan clan insignia. "I still can't stay, Wrex."

"Ha!" Wrex barked out. "By making you the tip of Clan Urdnot, Shepard, we could have all of Tuchanka inside a month."

"I know," Shepard said, "but, I have to leave something for you to do."

"Yeah, yeah," said a resigned Wrex. "I'm stuck playing politician, and you get to go off and save the galaxy again."

"You'll manage."

"So what's this about, Shepard?" Wrex asked, his lips curved into a smile when he added. "Do you need directions to the female camp?"

Shepard groaned at his friend's reference to the lone mating request he received after he helped Grunt kill that thresher maw. "No, that's not it."

"Too bad," Wrex said his smile intact. "Once you've been with a krogan female it's hard to go back."

"Uh-huh," Shepard said, not wanting or needing the image of mating krogan in his head. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair to see Wrex's amusement had been lifted and the krogan was watching him with a more pensive look.

"So were you able to rescue the salarian from the Blood Pack?"

"Yes, we were," Shepard answered, deciding not to clarify that Maelon hadn't been a captive, but a willing participant. "That's actually why I wanted to speak with you."

"Oh?" But Wrex didn't look too surprised.

In seeing Wrex's reaction, Shepard remembered what Maelon had said, that he had went to Wrex, but he had refused because Maelon needed krogan subjects to study. It caused him to wonder if his friend already knew what Maelon was trying to accomplish. "He was using the females of Clan Weyrloc as test subjects."

Wrex didn't speak. His eyes never left Shepard's, undeterred, by the silence or the krogan's stony expression, Shepard continued. "He was trying to cure the genophage."

Again, Wrex gave no reply. His face surprisingly remained impassive, the only reaction or movement from him was with his hands when he placed them on the table.

His no reaction further solidifying Shepard's suspicion that Wrex may have already known what Maelon was up to.

Finally, he spoke. "Why are you telling me this, Shepard?"

_This was it, _Shepard thought,_ the point of no return._ "I'm telling you this because Maelon is closer than anyone has been to curing the genophage since Saren on Virmire."

Wrex's hands clenched the edge of the table. "Did you destroy his data too?"

Shepard, who had cradling his gift from Wrex, put it on the table. "No, I have the data."

"What are you going to do with it?" Wrex asked, leaning forward, leveling his gaze on Shepard.

"Mordin-"

Wrex didn't let him finish, exploding in a fit of anger, he slammed his fists into the table with so much force; he further cracked the stone causing clouds of dust to mushroom between the two. "The fate of my people depends on that data!"

Shepard didn't blink at Wrex's outburst instead he tried to placate him. "I know that."

"Then hand over that information!"

"I can't do that," Shepard tried to explain. "Not yet."

"Quit jerking me around, Shepard," he growled, dropping his hands from the table. He walked around the table, but didn't give Shepard a second glance, walking across the room, stopping where he reached the crumbled wall that allowed a glimpse of the Urdnot base camp below.

"For more than a thousand years my people have been punished, Shepard. The genophage turned my once proud people into animals, who squabble over a pile of rubble." He let out a deep rumbling sigh. "My people have no future as long as the genophage exists."

"I agree," Shepard admitted, knowing he surprised Wrex when the krogan turned in his direction. "I can't give you the information now, Wrex, but I will, I promise."

"When?" Wrex demanded.

"Soon," he answered. "Mordin just wants to—"

"Sabotage it!" Wrex accused, "That damn pyjack is—"

"No," Shepard interrupted with enough force to silence the krogan. "I wouldn't allow that."

"Then why won't you give me that data?"

"And do what with it?" Shepard challenged. He came up alongside his friend. "I might be new to Tuchanka, so maybe I missed its laboratories."He pointed down below. "Last I checked all you have are warriors. You have no doctors, no scientists. If I give you the data what are you going to do with it? Do you even have a fucking terminal to use to upload the information?"

Wrex bristled at this. "Don't sell my people short."

"I'm not," Shepard said, before amending, "But don't sell our friendship short either."

"I don't like this." Wrex admitted, rubbing his head-plate in thought. "I'm not sure I can trust that salarian."

"Then trust me," Shepard replied, "Because I want the genophage cured to."

A lull of silence fell on the two friends. Shepard snuck a glance over to see Wrex looked to be deep in thought. His red eyes looked down at the camp below, but he didn't need to turn his head to meet Shepard's stare. "I do trust you."

Shepard let loose the breath he didn't know he was holding. Pleased and thankful that Wrex once more was placing the trust of his people's future in Shepard's hands. "Thank you, Wrex. Mordin will examine Maelon's work, and also promised to use some of his contacts with STG for further analysis."

Wrex gave an instinctive snarl at the mention of the STG. "You know the other species aren't going to like this," he pointed out. "What do you think the Council is going to say?"

"When have I been one to care what the Council thinks, Wrex?"

"HA!" Wrex clapped him on the back. "I'm glad you're back."

* * *

><p>"<em>Protests continue to gather around the Shepard Memorial Flame. Security has increased on Torfan as the protestors have tried to extinguish the flame, but all attempts have been rebuffed. Per Admiral Hackett's orders, no arrests have been made and the Alliance has denied to comment."<em>

Shepard sighed. The commander was alone in his cabin. He sat behind his desk, the source of the voice coming from his terminal, as the screen displayed the full story of the unrest at Torfan. He forcibly exited out of the page, cutting off the voice before it could go any further. He wasn't surprised that people were protesting at Torfan. They had been voicing their displeasure at what happened on that moon, since it first happened all those years ago.

The doors of his cabin opened with a _swoosh_, cutting off his thoughts from going any further.

"Shepard?"

He turned in his chair to greet his guest. It was Shiala. She looked troubled, standing on the threshold of his doorway. "Please come in, Shiala."

"Thank you, Shepard," she said, stepping into his room. The green skinned asari's attention shifting to the fish tank, and the plethora of diverse fish that were currently inhabiting it.

Ever since Kelly had volunteered to look after and feed his fish when Shepard was away, his fish tank was no longer a watery tomb, but a thriving underwater community for more than a handful of different variety of fish.

"Is something wrong?"

She took her eyes off of the fish and towards him. "I think I've made a terrible mistake, commander."

"What do you mean?"

"I never should have come with you on this mission," she confessed, wringing her hands in front of her.

"What are you talking about?" asked a perplexed Shepard. He had only taken her on a handful of missions, but she had excelled each time; her weapons training and her biotic ability made her a deadly force on the battlefield.

"I made an irrational decision by joining you," she said, putting her back against the glass tank. "I was so desperate in trying to find my purpose, that I may have endangered all of you."

Shepard swiveled his chair around so that he was facing her. "You're not making any sense, Shiala."

"The Thorian."

"What about it?" he shrugged. He remembered killing the ancient fauna back on Feros.

"I can still feel its affect," she tried to explain. She closed her eyes, a flicker of pain flittered over her face. "It's not as strong as when it was alive, but it's just as potent."

This didn't surprise Shepard. He remembered her telling him this back on Illium. "You already told me this."

"I know," she said, bringing her fingers to her temple. "It's stronger now, and it's affecting my biotics."

_That was reason to be concerned, _Shepard thought to himself, "How so?"

"They're becoming increasingly unstable," she answered. "I have to exert a tremendous amount of strength and will for just a basic biotic attack."

He remained quiet, studying the distressed green skinned asari in front of him. He could see the pain in her countenance, the fear in her eyes. Noticing this reaction, he wondered if there was more to Shiala's concerns than just her unstable biotics and her unique connection with the Thorian.

"You know I volunteered myself to the Thorian," she revealed, with a shake of her head, looking and sounding uncomfortable. "I was a willing servant to Saren in no small part due to Sovereign."

Shepard perked at this. "Sovereign?"

"Yes, his ship."

"You've seen it?"

"I was on it."

"What?" Shepard asked, never remembering being told this particular piece of information.

"It was not something I like to dwell on." Shiala shuddered. "I was only on it briefly, but it was terrible. I can still remember the voices, the sick slithering feeling, to be a prisoner in your own body…" Her voice trailed off, before wincing at the painful memory.

"You were indoctrinated?"

Shiala turned her attention to her boots. "Yes."

_This couldn't be happening, _Shepard thought at this stunning revelation. If she was indoctrinated then what was stopping Harbinger from assuming control of Shiala's body next time she was with them on a mission against the Collectors. What was stopping her from turning into a thrall, and handing them over to the Reapers?

"Sovereign indoctrinated you?" Shepard repeated, reeling from this starling news. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

She bowed her head, "I'm sorry, Shepard, but when you offered me a chance for redemption for a new purpose, I couldn't refuse."

Shepard shook his head. "We're going up against Reapers, Shiala!" He pushed himself out of his chair. "And here we have an actual servant of the Reapers inside our ranks!"

"I'm no longer a servant of them," she argued, but what was not conveyed in words could be seen in her facial expression. She bit her lip, another look of pain flittered across her face. There still seemed to be some sort of emotional turmoil going on within her mind.

"Damn it, Shiala!"

"I'm sorry, Shepard."

"If Harbinger found out about this connection," Shepard paused, knowing what he would have to do to the asari if the Reaper became aware of this link. He'd have no choice, and he wouldn't hesitate to do it.

"I can leave," she offered.

He should've instantly voiced his approval at her decision. He should've taken her up on her offer in an instant, but for some unexplained reason Shepard hesitated. Just seconds ago he was considering about having to kill her for the sake of their mission, but now, a new thought occurred. It was appealing, all be it a very dangerous risk. It followed the old adage-_keep your friends close and your enemies closer…_

There was no doubt that the Reapers were coming. No argument to the threat they posed. Shepard understood that when the Reapers came there would be different fronts to this war. It wasn't just Reaper ships and husks; they'd have to fight, but the threat of indoctrination. A tactic the Reapers used to perfection against the Protheans, remembering Vigil explaining to him the downfall of the Prothean race, and how indoctrinated servants played a pivotal role in bringing down the government and snuffing out survivors. Indoctrination had been vital to the Reapers war effort. It was their most powerful weapon in their arsenal.

This was their opportunity to study the effects of indoctrination. This was their chance to begin to implement countermeasures to stop this method of the Reapers. It was risky, but war was all about risks, and taking chances. If they were careful in their studying, and followed certain protocol, and created safety procedures then wasn't this a risk worth taking?

It was too good of an opportunity for Shepard to pass up. He understood the risks, but he was willing to take them. Shiala's indoctrination was linked to Sovereign; therefore it should've been weakened if not destroyed by its destruction at the Battle of the Citadel. And if it wasn't, and Harbinger became aware of this link or the studying uncovered something dangerous than Shiala would die, and he wouldn't hesitate to kill her.

"No," Shepard spoke up, "That won't be necessary."

Shiala's painted on eyebrows furrowed together.

"I think you should stay," he explained, "and I think Mordin and Dr. Chakwas should have a look at you." He saw her confusion, so he was quick to add, "They may be able to help you."

"Thank you, Shepard," she said, looking relieved.

"For the time being let's keep this between ourselves," he suggested, he knew that if word got out on _the Normandy_ of this connection there would be panic. "You should go get some rest, and in a few hours I'll come by and get you and we can talk to Dr. Chakwas and Mordin of your delicate situation."

She nodded, but when she opened her mouth to speak, the door of Shepard's cabin opened with a _swoosh_, prompting her to close it. She and Shepard turned at once to the new visitor.

"Am I interrupting something?" It was Drek. His upper set of eyes on Shepard, while his lower set of eyes were on Shiala.

"No, I was just leaving," Shiala said, making a beeline towards the door. She brushed past the batarian, and as she stepped out of the room, she looked over her shoulder, looking as if she had something to add, but she seemed to decide against it, since she went to the elevator without another look or word.

"Can I help you, Drek?" Shepard asked, returning to his seat.

"I need your help, Shepard," Drek answered, not wasting any time. Like Shiala before him, Drek went over to the fish tank, keeping his back towards Shepard. "I never told you what I did when I was with the Blue Suns."

"No, you didn't," replied Shepard, wondering what prompted Drek to bring it up, especially if he needed help.

He looked over his shoulder, "I was part of a fringe element within the Blue Suns."

"A fringe element?" repeated a confused Shepard.

"Yeah, that's right," Drek answered. "We were working indirectly for the Batarian Hegemony."

"And the Blue Suns didn't know?"

"They didn't care," corrected Drek, "not as long as they got paid, which they did. The Hegemony gave them quite the incentive to allow them to continue to use this fringe."

"What did the Hegemony get out of this deal?"

"It allowed them to handle old grudges against the Alliance while having complete deniability."

Shepard rested his elbows on his legs as he leaned forward, "And you were working with them?"

"That's right, for the last two years."

"That lines up with your work with Cerberus."

Drek gave a tight smile. "Exactly, I was brought in after my handiwork of that Cerberus Operative I caught and killed."

"And they never thought that they had invited in a Cerberus mole," Shepard said, shaking his head, unable to stop himself from smiling.

"No, they never did," replied Drek sounding amused at being able to successfully fool them. "So I hindered their efforts, I leaked warnings and info back to Cerberus."

"After awhile wouldn't they find out if their targets were expecting them," Shepard pointed out.

"I never said I saved all of them."

Shepard understood the grim reality in Drek's situation. In order to save some of them, they had to allow others to be captured or killed or the Blue Suns would've figured out they had a spy in their ranks.

"It makes sense."

"Yeah, and now this element has become aware that I'm not dead."

"How is that possible?" Shepard frowned, remembering they had thoroughly killed all the Blue Suns on the base on Sanctum where they had found Drek. Not to mention, the batarian had also rigged the base to detonate to remove any remaining evidence of his betrayal of the crime syndicate.

Drek shrugged, "I don't know how, and I don't care, but I need to deal with them."

"What do you want to do?"

"Kill them," answered Drek without hesitation. "These guys are all radicals, and they're going to come after me, better to hit them first before they get a chance to get me."

"Where are they?"

Drek drew up his omni-tool, a wall of text on display. "Cerberus Command is reporting that they're on Omega. No doubt, trying to capitalize on the Blue Suns lost ground and the anti-human sentiments from the plague scare."

"Great, because I didn't get enough of that shit-hole the last time we were there."

"Thanks, Shepard," Drek said, turning off his omni-tool. "I appreciate this."

"Don't worry, Drek," Shepard replied, "we'll get 'em."

* * *

><p><em>Omega…<em>

It was just as shitty as Shepard remembered. He decided to take only minimal strength to the lawless station. He decided against Garrus, since 'Archangel' sightings wouldn't be advantageous. Shiala and Mordin too were staying behind, with the latter beginning his studying of the former and her unique connection with the Thorian and her possible susceptibility to the Reapers. So it was only himself, Drek, Thane, and Jacob.

The four of them made their way over to the apartment complex that was located a few blocks away from the Afterlife bar. According to Cerberus Intel that was where the Suns were hiding out. It was serving as their temporarily base of operations as they tried to regroup after most of the Blue Suns were purged in their attempts at trying to kill Archangel.

"This is it," Drek said, when the four of them arrived at the door at the far end of the corridor at the bottom level of the complex.

"How do you want to handle this, Drek?" Shepard asked, cradling his assault rifle.

"I'll take point," he said, holding his shotgun.

"Alright," Shepard nodded, "we'll stay out of view." He gestured for Jacob and Thane to go to the left of the door, while he took the right of it, stepping out of view, so when the door opened all they could see would be Drek.

"Works for me," Drek said, activating his cloaking device from his omni-tool causing the batarian to disappear from view. He then knocked on the door.

They only waited a handful of seconds before the door opened to show a lone batarian in Blue Suns armor. "What the—"

Drek never let him finish, opening fire with his shotgun, punching a helmet sized hole in the batarian's chest. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The fighting ended before it began. With only two other batarians in the room, they were dispatched quickly. Thane and Jacob handling one of them with a combination of their biotics, and Shepard saw to the other one with his assault rifle. Drek didn't wait for the bodies to hit the floor before going into the apartment.

Satisfied that the entry to the apartment was secure Shepard stepped in seeing just how cramp the apartment really was .It contained a small living area with a turned over sofa and chair from the fighting, a small kitchenette caddy cornered against the far side of the wall and a door to the left.

It was Drek who went to the door, opening it with his shotgun raised on alert before entering the room. It didn't take him long to give the all clear. The apartment was clear. It seemed that these were the only three people occupying the place.

For Shepard this was an odd notion to accept. He had listened to Drek talk about this fringe group within the Blue Suns. He had told him that they were well trained, well armed, and wouldn't go down without a fight. The three they had just dispatched went down without as much as a whimper. This didn't feel right to Shepard, and he wasn't the only to have come to that conclusion.

"This was all of them?" asked a confused Jacob. "I was expecting a few more bodies."

"Agreed," Thane said, raising his head, and clasping his hands behind his back. "For the danger they supposedly posed we neutralized them far too quickly."

"Nothing in there?" Shepard asked when Drek emerged from the room, allowing Shepard to see the room was nothing more than a small bedroom.

"Nope," answered an increasingly annoyed Drek. He made his way over to the nearest fallen mercenary, crouching down beside him, before turning over the dead batarian. Drek's eyes barely had time to register the face before he slammed his fist into the armored chest of the dead mercenary. "Damn it!"

"What's wrong?"

"He's not here."

That got Shepard's attention, when Drek had told him about this Blue Suns outfit, he never mentioned anyone specific. "Who?"

Drek didn't seem to have heard him, and if he had, he was ignoring him. The former Blue Suns legionnaire took the omni-tool from the dead batarian, and began scanning it with his. A holographic display of walls of text was called up, as he slowly began combing through the information stored inside the mercenary's omni-tool.

"Who are you looking for, Drek?" Shepard asked. This time he raised his voice loud enough so that Drek couldn't ignore him.

"Thorvan Ghorot," he answered, keeping his attention on the omni-tool he had taken from the dead merc. "He was in charge. He received his orders directly from the Hegemony."

Any question Shepard was going to follow up with was forgotten when a new voice echoed inside the room.

"Nobody move!" Following the command, were the sounds of several weapons cocking.

Thane and Jacob had their weapons out, and had called on their biotics both looked ready to go in a moment's notice. Drek, on the other hand, remained crouched down, his lower set of eyes on the dead mercenary, while his upper set turned to the new target.

Shepard carefully turned around to see a handful of armed men standing in the doorway. He didn't holster his rifle; instead he only lowered it, so that the muzzle pointed to the ground. "Steady," he said to his group, but he kept his eyes on the new arrivals. He was quick to notice that none of them were wearing Blue Suns armor.

"Looks like we got here too late," said the point man of the group, a batarian, someone who Shepard recognized. It was Anto, one of Aria's top LTs. "Stand down." The diverse group of mercenaries did so, before dispersing in the corridor disappearing from view as they went about securing the area. The only mercenaries who remained visible were a pair of turians who stood outside the doorway on guard duty.

Unsure of why Aria would take interest in this fringe element of the Blue Suns, who posed no direct threat to her rule. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Shepard," Anto replied, stepping into the room. "You make a habit of breaking down doors and gunning down mercenaries?"

"Only when I'm bored," was Shepard's glib response.

Anto didn't seem amused. "You're on Aria's turf, Shepard. It may be smart to be a little more considerate of our host."

"Is that why you're here?" Shepard didn't bother to hide his sarcasm or his dislike for the Ruler of Omega when he added, "Because I offended your illustrious leader?"

He glowered at Shepard's remarks, but didn't shrug off the question. "We were responding to a tip from a kidnapping."

"A kidnapping?" repeated Shepard, unsure if he should be more amused or surprised by the answer. With all the crime and desolation that plagued the space station, he found it unlikely that a simple kidnapping would result in Aria sending one of her top LTs to investigate it.

"It took place an hour ago at Afterlife," Anto explained. "Aria takes it personally whenever a serious crime is committed in her club."

"Unless she sanctioned it," added Shepard.

Again Anto didn't look particularly happy at Shepard's insults to the Pirate Queen of Omega, but before the batarian could defend his boss, one of the turian mercenaries who were guarding the door, stepped in.

"We have a situation."

"Is she out there?" asked Anto.

"Yeah, she thinks she can help with the investigation."

"Fine," Anto sighed, "let her in."

A confused and silent Shepard watched the conversation play out between Anto and the turian, unsure who they were referring to. Before he could further muse on who the two were talking about, an asari appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in the revealing and voluptuous outfit of an Afterlife dancer. She had an intricate pattern of glitter along her drawn on eye brows, and along her crest.

"You shouldn't have come here, Darya," Anto reprimanded. "We have this investigation under control."

The asari dancer named Darya didn't seem to be listening. "Nehria?" She called out, as if expecting this 'Nehria' to simply materialize before them. "Nehria? Can you hear me?"

"I already told ya, she's not here," said an annoyed Anto.

Her shouting didn't go unnoticed by Drek. He had been silently studying the omni-tool, but upon hearing the name, his head shot up, the omni-tool momentarily forgotten. "Who did you say?"

"Nehria-"

"That dumb bitch," Drek cut her off.

Darya took offense to this, getting ready to speak up for her friend, but Shepard beat her to the punch.

"You know her?"

"Yeah," Drek said, still holding onto the omni-tool as he came to his feet. "That's my ex."

"You're Drek?" Darya gaped, momentarily forgetting to be angry at him for his previous insult.

"You're ex as in…" Shepard asked,

"The mother of his child," Darya finished for Shepard.

"That's not my kid," he growled defensively. "It's not batarian!"

Darya harrumphed crossing her arms over her chest.

"Is it possible Thorvan took her?" Shepard asked.

"It's not only possible, he did do it," Drek answered, gesturing to the omni-tool he had taken from the mercenary. "They were supposed to meet him after finishing some business here."

"Where did they take her?"asked a frantic Darya.

Drek didn't answer her. Instead he stepped over the dead mercenary and made his way towards the door, only stopping at the entrance. He turned back towards Shepard and the others. "He took her to the Fathar system, to Lorek."

"Wait!" cried Darya, stopping him from leaving. "Where are you going?"

"To Lorek," Drek replied, "to kill Thorvan."

"And to rescue Nehria?" added a hopeful Darya.

Drek let out a dark chuckle, but made no attempt to further clarify his position before leaving the room.

"We should get moving," Shepard instructed, turning to Jacob and Thane, who both had been silent during the conversation. They nodded and followed Shepard out of the room with Anto and Darya right behind them.

"So Drek has a kid?" Jacob asked, as they left the room.

"A beautiful daughter," answered a proud Darya, a smile blooming on her painted lips.

Shepard turned back to Thane and Jacob. "Head back to the Normandy and give Joker our new set of coordinates. I'll be there shortly; I want the Normandy ready to leave in ten minutes."

"Understood, Commander," Jacob replied, snapping off a salute, while Thane settled for a nod as the Cerberus Operative and Drell assassin left.

Once they were out of sight, Shepard turned back to Darya, "Where is Drek's daughter?"

"She's safe," Darya answered. "I was watching her for Nehria during her shift."

Shepard took in the asari's risqué attire, wondering if she was here and working then who was now watching Drek's daughter.

Darya must have sensed his unasked question. "She's with my boyfriend, but I'm on my way back now to watch her."

Satisfied, Shepard nodded, knowing he was wasting time lingering here. He turned to head back towards _the Normandy_, but a hand on his shoulder caused him to pause.

"Please, you have to save her," Darya pleaded.

"I'll do my best," he replied, uncomfortable at being put in the middle of a very delicate and personal situation. Not wanting to get further bogged down in a private conflict he had no right to be in, he excused himself before Darya could further beg and plead with him to save her friend, and the mother of Drek's daughter. Shepard wasn't sure of all the facts surrounding this mission, but one thing he did know was that Drek's mission just got a lot more complicated.

* * *

><p>The shuttle ride down to Lorek was tense and quiet. Shepard and his squad were on their way down to the Blue Suns base on the batarian colony to wipe out this faction. Even though they were going up against a base of heavily trained mercenaries, Shepard elected to go with a small squad, relying on their skill and experience to overcome the numbers that this group would throw at them. So besides Drek, Shepard chose to go with Thane, Jacob, and Garrus.<p>

Drek hadn't said two words to Shepard since leaving Omega. Now the batarian was sitting by the window seat of the shuttle, but his attention wasn't on the view outside, but on his omni-tool. Sitting beside him was Garrus with Jacob on Garrus' other side and Shepard and Thane sitting across from them.

Thane had his elbows anchored to his legs while his hands were firmly clasped below his chin; the drell looked to be deep in thought or prayer. "My biggest regret was not being there for my family."

Drek stiffened in his seat, but he didn't look up at the drell. "This isn't the same thing."

Thane looked up from over his clasped hands at the batarian. "I do not see the difference."

"Your wife she was a drell," Drek pointed out, turning off his omni-tool, and turning to Thane for the first time. "Your son he was a drell."

"Yes, but surely—"

"There's your difference," Drek cut in brusquely.

Thane leaned back; his eyes never leaving Drek. "Your words speak of one intention, while your actions reveal another."

"I don't care if Nehria lives or dies," Drek said plainly. "My only priority is killing Thorvan and his horde of zealots."

"I thought we killed your buddies on Sanctum," Garrus observed, referring to Drek's recruitment mission.

"No, that wasn't them," Drek answered. "I was only on that base for the short term getting it up and running."

"And the Blue Suns on Sanctum weren't part of this faction?" Jacob asked

"No."

"So who is this Thorvan?" Shepard asked, knowing that this individual was the target of Drek's focus and ire.

"He's a nasty vicious bastard," answered Drek. "He fought with the Hegemony before going to work for the Blue Suns. He wants to restart the war against the Alliance."

Jacob shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "And you're against that?"

"Of course I am," Drek snapped, sounding offended at being lumped together with this Thorvan. "He wants Khar'shan to remain isolated."

"And you don't?" Jacob asked, he didn't hide his surprise at the thought of Drek disagreeing with his own people.

"An isolated Khar'shan is a weak Khar'shan." Drek explained, "When the Reapers come who will defend my home? Who will protect my people, No one! Leaving us to perish in the onslaught of the Reaper armada," Drek lowered his head. "My people will be extinct because of petty, self-inflicted differences!"

"That's not going to happen, Drek," Shepard assured him. "I won't let that happen."

Drek snorted, his words dripping with sarcasm when he asked. "The Butcher of Torfan will save my people?"

"No species deserves extinction," Shepard said firmly, meeting Drek's inquisitive stare to show that he wasn't lying and that he was resolute in this belief. He wouldn't condemn the rachni queen on Noveria, he wouldn't allow the krogan to succumb to the genophage, and he wasn't going to allow the batarians to be wiped out because of their bloody history with humanity.

After a silent stare down, Drek relented breaking the eye contact but not before giving Shepard, a subtle nod acknowledging and accepting Shepard's pledge.

"Well except the Reapers," Garrus put-in, "and the Collectors."

Shepard smiled, but before he could add to his friend's joke the shuttle's VI voice spoke over the loudspeakers-"T-minus three minutes till landing."

"Okay, listen up," Shepard said, calling the squad to attention. "This isn't a rescue mission." He knew he surprised everyone with that remark including Drek. "Our first priority is neutralizing this base, and eliminating this faction. All other objectives are secondary." He looked around to make sure everyone understood his orders. They did, giving him affirmative nods.

Satisfied, he turned to his batarian squad mate. "Okay Drek, let's kill this bastard."

* * *

><p>"Get down!" shouted Drek.<p>

Shepard obeyed, slipping behind cover just as a pair of rockets soared over his position. He had been the intended target. He looked to his right to see Drek was huddled behind a turned over table, typing commands fervently into his omni-tool.

"How much longer?" Shepard called.

"Don't rush me, Shepard!"

"I'm not!"Shepard replied hotly, turning to look up from his cover to see the heavy mech advancing onto their position, "but they are."

Shepard and his squad were at an impasse with the Blue Suns. Their battlefield was a large, sprawling room which judging by all the crates and lifts was some sort of storage facility. The fighting through the base had been intense, but they had slowly made ground before entering this very room. It was here where they realized their mistake.

They had come through the south entrance, unaware of the east, west, and north entrances into the room and before long all three entrances had Blue Suns pouring into the room. Shepard and the others had barely made it to cover, and in the scramble had been separated by the rows upon rows of crates which further divided the room. He and Drek were currently being pinned in the area between the south and east entrances by a heavy mech. Thane, Jacob, and Garrus were closer towards the south and west entrances, separated by rows of crates and a hell of a lot of Blue Suns.

Shepard slid deeper into his crouching position when the heavy mech turned its automated firing turret on his position. He listened to the sound of bullets chewing through his cover. Unsure how much more his flimsy protection could sustain this bullet bombardment, when the assault suddenly stopped.

He knew at once what the cause was. Cautiously looking over his mutilated cover to see the heavy mech was towering over him, its red unblinking eye transfixed on Shepard, but it made no attempt to engage him, because Drek had successfully hacked the mech. Instead, it slowly turned around and began to open fire onto a trio of Blue Suns troopers who had been using the heavy mech to cover their advance.

"What did I tell ya, Shepard?" Drek called out from his cover.

He had the good sense to chuckle, "not to doubt you."

"Damn right," Drek replied, peering over his own cover to help orchestrate the hacked heavy mech as it made swift work of the Blue Suns. It then lumbered towards the heart of the Blue Suns entrenchment.

Shepard still staying low made his way over to Drek's position. "Nice work."

"Don't sound too surprised, Shepard," Drek said, not looking up when Shepard joined him, he instead let out a dark cackle when he entered a new command into his omni-tool.

"What was that?" Shepard asked, as he slapped a new clip into his assault rifle.

"A surprise for my friends," Drek answered, vaguely and no sooner had he answered came a deafening explosion from the far side of the room. A blossom of flames, pillars of smoke, and a chorus of shouts, curses, and yelps signaled what had just happened. Drek had set the heavy mech to self-destruct which it did right in the heart of the Blue Suns ranks.

"Shepard, was that you guys?" Garrus' voice crackled in Shepard's ear.

"Yeah, that was Drek," Shepard confirmed. "Where are you?"

"Thane and I found a good snipers' perch," Garrus relayed, "we're making short work of these Pyros."

As if to prove his point, there was a sudden, small explosion that went off to Shepard and Drek's left; signaling that either Garrus or Thane had successfully picked off one.

"Good work," Shepard said, pleased to see that his friend was doing what he did best, "And Jacob?"

"I'm good, Commander," Jacob replied, "Even though I'm being served up as the bait."

"No complaining," Garrus' voice cut in, but his tone belayed his words. "We all have to do our parts."

"Coming from the guy who gets to stay at a safe vantage point," returned Jacob in a grumble, but with no real venom.

"Okay, hold tight," Shepard ordered, "Drek and I will come get you before moving forward."

"Understood, Commander," Jacob replied.

"Do you even know where we're going, Shepard?" Garrus asked.

"No," Shepard said, honestly, "but Drek does."

"We have to head through the northern entrance at the far side of the facility," Drek relayed, bringing up the layout of the base from his omni-tool. "That is where Thorvan will be, there's also a private landing, so we need to hurry."

"So sit tight," Shepard said, "we'll see you shortly."

"Will do, Shepard," Garrus replied.

* * *

><p>They found Thorvan at his private landing pad, his shuttle already primed and ready to take off, the door open and he was half carrying, half dragging a protesting Nehria. Sensing their arrival, he immediately turned his back on his shuttle, and propped Nehria up in front of him to use as a body shield as Shepard and the others drew their guns on him.<p>

His Blue Suns armor was cocooned in tech plate armor that included his head. He wrapped one arm around Nehria's throat, and with his other hand he was holding his pistol, which he pointed towards Drek.

"Please help me," begged Nehria wiggling in her captor's grip.

"Shut up." That was Drek. Unlike the others who lowered their weapons when Thorvan put Nehria in front of him, Drek's shotgun remained pointed at Thorvan and by extension Nehria.

Shepard could practically see the anger radiating off of Drek. His expression was clouded, his eyes dark, as he tightened his grip on his shotgun. "Drek…"

That got Thorvan's attention turning to Shepard for the first time, receiving a look of pure hatred from the Blue Suns mercenary. "With the Butcher of Torfan," finishing where Shepard started. He turned back towards Drek.

"You've betrayed your people!" He growled.

"I'm saving them," Drek responded, his voice just as heated.

"Working with Cerberus?" Thorvan challenged.

"Where you mean to weaken our people," Drek replied, "I intend to save them!"

Thorvan bristled at this. His grip tightened around Nehria's throat, his tech plate armor shimmering in the light. "Everything I've done is for our people!"

"Raiding colonies?" Drek said, "Slaughtering civilians?"

"They were humans," Thorvan dismissed, waving his pistol in a gesture of contempt. "You can't stop me, Drek. What I've started, the Hegemony will reign. It is our destiny! All in the galaxy will fear our people."

"I'll kill you before that happens," Drek assured him.

"You'll never get that chance."

A loud siren went off and suddenly more than a dozen LOKI mechs appeared through two hidden doorways entering the room where they opened fire. Shepard and the others scattered trying to find cover, Shepard found one behind a crate. He took his eyes off of the shooting, advancing mechs to see Thorvan had slipped into his shuttle, as it took off, he had left Nehria behind. She was on the ground, her hands covering her ears, eyes going wide as she absorbed the chaos surrounding her.

Shepard opened fire on the shuttle, as it ascended above the landing pad, but it was futile, the shuttle's armor and shields easily were able to deflect or absorb the rounds from his rifle. He looked over the crate to see Garrus, Jacob, and Thane were staving off the mechs advancement, picking them off with biotics and bullets. Drek was with them, shouting and cursing, taking his frustration on Thorvan slipping from his grasp on his mechs.

Screaming ripped Shepard from his vantage point, turning around to see Nehria had been shot. He looked to see the last of the mechs were being put down, seeing his opening he sprinted towards the fallen asari. It was multiple shots, two bullets punctured her torso; blood was seeping from her wounds, already beginning to pool on the floor.

Shepard immediately applied medi-gel to the wound, and the bleeding slowed to a trickle, and her screaming waned to whimpering. Tears in her eyes, she was shaking, her lower-half covered in her own blood. Even with the wound closed, she wasn't out of danger. Without proper medical attention it was more than likely she'd be dead within the hour. With nothing else he could do, Shepard stood from his crouching position to see the battle was over. The mechs lay in pieces, each and every one of them destroyed.

"Damn it!" Drek kicked a mech's discarded leg.

He understood his anger. Shepard's eyes went towards the sky above their heads. Thorvan's shuttle was long gone. They may have defeated the faction, but Thorvan, the true threat remained at-large. And to both Shepard and Drek that meant one thing- Their mission was a failure.

* * *

><p>Morning was slowly creeping to Omega.<p>

It took some coercing on Shepard's part, not to mention a pleading Nehria who desperately wanted to return back to the space station for Drek to grudgingly relent to help escort her back to Omega, once the asari had been treated and cleared by Dr. Chakwas. The first human Spectre and the batarian legionnaire now stood awkwardly in the small, cramp loft unsure what to do or say.

Darya was bustling in the kitchenette area, helping her friend with some of the more menial tasks while Nehria recovered from her ordeal at Lorek.

"Don't you want to see her?" Nehria asked, coming up behind Shepard and Drek.

"I already did," Drek lied, waving a hand in the girl's general direction, "Very nice and what not."

"In the dark?" Nehria challenged not for a minute believing him. "From here?"

Drek grumbled something, and even though Shepard couldn't hear it, he had a feeling that it was directed at his ex and that it wasn't very nice.

Undeterred, she gently nudged the batarian's shoulder, "just see her for a moment."

"Fine!" said an exasperated Drek.

Shepard followed a few steps behind since he didn't know where else to go. He watched as Drek stopped at the foot of the bed, not glancing at the one sleeping in it for more than a few seconds before turning back to his ex, "happy?"

"Look at her," Nehria insisted pointing at the bed. The asari didn't back down when Drek glared at her, mumbling as he did, and it was him who relented first, turning back to look at the child who was still sleeping undisturbed even amidst Drek's growing protests and grumbling.

Shepard came up alongside Drek. The batarian had his arms crossed, his four eyes looking down at the child, and the annoyance in his countenance didn't change as he took in the sight of his child for the first time. The young asari girl who looked no older than four or five appeared the same size as a human counterpart, looking no bigger than a small toddler.

"She doesn't even have four eyes." Drek lamented.

"We're teaching her you know," Nehria was saying coming to stand on Drek's other side. "She'll learn all about her father's heritage."

That didn't seem to bring any comfort to Drek. "You can teach her all you want about my people, but it will never make her one."

Nehria walked around them before crouching down beside the child's bed, where she laid a gentle hand on her head and whispered softly to her. She responded by stirring and groaning beneath her covers keeping her eyes closed. She turned back to them, "It's time for her to wake up."

She didn't seem bothered that the child wasn't responding well to being woken up this early. Nehria settled for gently lifting her out of the bed, standing back up and turning to Drek with the toddler in her arms. "Do you want to hold her?"

"No."

Nehria was holding the still sleeping child close to her chest as she walked over to Drek, "Just for a moment?"

"No."

"I said—" his protest died on his lips when she put the child in his hands.

"Drek, this is your daughter, Espera."

Unlike Nehria who had held Espera close to her chest, Drek was holding Espera at arm's length. He was handling her as if she was a set of explosives that needed to be disarmed as if it would go off at any minute. He tilted his head to the side, his four eyes scanning the young child in his hands. His expression remained impassive during his inspection.

The sleepy toddler squirmed and stirred in his hands, slowly waking up. She blinked owlishly before her blue eyes finally focused on Drek. The reaction wasn't positive. She scrunched her face before letting out a wail that should've been too loud to come from something so small.

Alarmed, Drek nearly dropped the now screaming child in his hands. Confused at what to do, he quickly unloaded the crying toddler back into Nehria's hands. She was quick to soothe Espera's agitation as she stopped crying, carrying her over to the small kitchen, leaving behind Drek and Shepard.

Standing there Drek was quick to cross his arms over his chest, grumbling something.

_Well, that could've gone better, _Shepard mused in terms of Drek's first encounter with his daughter.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Shepard."<p>

He turned to the batarian; the two had been silently making their way through Omega back towards the docked Normandy. They had elected to leave Nehria's loft shortly after Drek's little incident with his child.

"Yeah, Drek?"

"Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome," he replied, "and don't worry we'll get Thorvan."

"Good, I'm looking forward to it."

Unsure what else to say on the delicate matter of Drek's mission, Shepard opted to remain silent. Not knowing what was appropriate to say in regards of Drek's encounter with his ex and daughter, neither of which he seemed to like to talk about, or even generally liked. He wasn't sure if Drek's reunion with either of them was a helpful balm or an incendiary. He'd give him some time to sort of his feelings on the situation, before approaching him again to see if he wanted to talk about it…

"Ya know Nehria told me that Espera means something in some asari dialect."

"Oh yeah?" Shepard replied, caught off guard with Drek's choice of topic. He did well to hide his surprise, and was careful to keep his tone neutral when he added, "So what does it mean?"

"Hope."


	11. 10: Abyss

**A/N: This is a short chapter, I'm trying to jumpstart my muse for this story and fandom. **

* * *

><p><strong>We will Rise<strong>

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Ten: Abyss**

_To Miss Lawson,_

_Following up your request we've confirmed the destruction of all recording devices in the Normandy's med-lab. The area has been thoroughly scrubbed, and any attempt to boot up secondary devices has failed. Per your instructions the Illusive Man has been notified and has declined your request to install new equipment. _

_From, _

_Cerberus Command_

_Just great, _mused the very frustrated XO of the Normandy. Miranda's task was to monitor and report Shepard's conditions and interactions throughout this mission against the Collectors. And now she was being inhibited in doing her duty if she was unable to get access to the med lab. Her difficulties were only piling up as was her stress; in no small part due to her feelings towards the Commander and their growing relationship. It was a relationship that at times Miranda would best classify as confusing, challenging, and conflicting.

_Enough,_ she would not allow herself to get distracted. And at the moment her focus wasn't on her relationship with Shepard, but at trying to figure out what he was up to. She exited out of her message screen, releasing her disappointment towards her superior, realizing that holding onto such feelings would do nothing for her.

Shepard_ was up to something…_She knew this, but what was frustrating the calm, and stoic Cerberus Operative was not being able to figure out what he was doing. She had little information, and the only facts she had were the several instances of seeing Mordin, Chakwas, and Shiala hosting some sort of meeting within the med lab, these meetings sometimes lasting hours. In the past week, Shiala has spent more time in the med lab than anywhere else on the ship. In the handful of missions they had done since helping Drek out on Lorek, the green skinned asari had not been selected for any of them, neither had the salarian scientist.

When she first noticed the inclusion of Mordin into the med lab with Shepard and Chakwas, Miranda believed Shepard was trying to get a second opinion on his scars. They were getting worse. Red and blistery, these scars stretched across his cheeks and necks resembling an angry glowing spider web. It was an unexpected side effect of the Lazarus Project. Reading Kelly's psych reports and Miranda's own interactions confirmed the yeoman's theory that the scars were obviously bothering Shepard. However, after further observations in the past week, she had to dismiss the theory.

It wasn't Shepard spending his time in the med lab, but Mordin and Shiala. It was the inclusion of the green skinned asari that had her curious. She believed Shiala, not Shepard was the center of whatever it was they were doing. Which at the moment was very difficult to tell, even more so since the Illusive Man had vetoed her recommendation of installing new recording devices in the med lab.

It may center on Shiala, but Miranda wasn't quick to dismiss the important part Shepard played in all of this. He was going to great lengths to conceal his work. He seemed determined to keep this secret between himself, Mordin, Chakwas, and Shiala. That alone stirred a handful of uneasy and conflicting feelings within her. The one feeling that seemed to transcend over the others was that if she was honest with herself, it hurt her. It stung. And she knew that it shouldn't.

She tried to reason away these confusing emotions. Rationalizing that they were both independent people who strove to protect their privacy and maintain impassive demeanors around those who they were not close to. That did little to comfort her.

Then she tried a different tactic. Reminding herself who was she to be hurt by Shepard's secrets when she too had kept many things from him and still was keeping things from him. At the top of that list had been the fact that she had a twin sister, and it was only through her father's interference had she divulged that to him. And if she was honest with herself if her father hadn't posed a threat to Oriana, Miranda wasn't sure she would have told Shepard about her sister. She had been in no rush to divulge her most guarded secret.

"Miss Lawson?"

"Yes, EDI?" Miranda asked, thankful for the distraction.

"Commander Shepard is requesting your presence in the communication room."

"Thank you, EDI," she replied, "Can you inform the Commander I'm on my way up."

"Of course, Miss Lawson," EDI responded, "Is there anything else?"

"No, that's all," Miranda said, getting up from behind her desk.

"Logging you out, Miss Lawson," the AI's avatar disappearing.

* * *

><p>It seemed Miranda hadn't been the only one summoned to see Shepard. The room was crowded with the rest of the companions. However, she was quick to note that neither Mordin nor Shiala were in attendance. In fact they were the only ones missing.<p>

"Bout time, Cheerleader," greeted Jack, her arms crossed, leaning against the wall trying to put as much distance between herself and the closest companion. It was no small feat since the room wasn't very large.

Miranda ignored her. Walking alongside the table, she noticed that like Jack the others were giving her a wide berth. It seemed neither she nor Jack were very popular with their squad-mates. It wasn't a comparison she wanted to dwell on, so she pressed on until stopping at the end of the table across from Shepard, giving her a good view of the terminal and the holo-projection hovering over the table.

She sent a covert glance towards the Commander. The marks across his face were getting worse. The scars glowed a fierce red resembling thin tendrils stretching across his cheeks and down his neck. His once handsome face was marred by them. His strong jaw was covered by these red scars that slithered across like vines. The orange tint of the markings glowed softly beneath his dark stubble. His ensnaring blue eyes had not escaped the devastation. The scars had climbed up his face, seeping in to muddle his once bright blue eyes. They had degenerated, leading to glowing sections to appear within the irises.

It was a grisly sight to take in, but Miranda's stare did not waver. She cared for him in ways she would've thought impossible years ago when they first met. He meant more to her than she was willing to admit, because it frightened her. Even now, when they were together, she bottled up these emotions, tried to suppress them, only giving him glimpses or moments. And seeing him in front of her in his condition made her heart reach out to him. She was worried, concerned for him, but not about his appearance, but his health, his state of mind.

A difficult line to believe, but nonetheless it was true. Someone with her looks, her beauty, her background, was expected to be some sort of superficial, shallow person. That was what was expected of her, but Miranda Lawson learned long ago, not to meet the expectations of those that did not matter.

He seemed to sense her gaze since he turned to face it. His face stoic, his eyes sharp, his jaw clenched, as if challenging her to look away either out of embarrassment of being caught or disgust at what she saw. She did not. She felt neither. It was something else that stirred within her. It was-

"Shepard?"

He turned away from her and towards Garrus. He recovered smoothly, his eyes sweeping across the room to make sure everyone was present. Miranda subtly shifted her gaze away from him and towards the terminal, but she made sure to keep him within eyesight.

"We've caught a break," Shepard said to break the silence that had engulfed the room. "EDI?"

The ship's AI avatar appeared in its usual position, coming on simultaneously was the holo-projection and to Miranda's and everyone else's surprise was the image of the Collector Ship.

"A turian patrol made contact with a Collector Ship, the turians were wiped out, but not before they crippled the vessel. We're on our way to the system now."

"Where did we get this information?" Garrus asked. "I doubt the turians shared this news willingly."

"Cerberus intercepted their distress call."

_Made sense, _Miranda silently agreed. She was aware of the Cerberus agents whose job it was to monitor the frequencies of the other species' governments. This was one of the reasons why Cerberus had yet to be brought down by one of the Council races. It was illegal, but it was self preservation on their part to monitor the turians, asari, and salarians specifically, realizing that they were their greatest threat.

"What about the Hierarchy?" The turian pressed forward. "Won't they send their own response?"

"It's being delayed," Shepard answered, "So that we can get there first."

"And do what?" Drek asked, leaning against the table, his four eyes on the projection of the collector vessel. "Give them a jump start?"

"We're going to board the vessel," Shepard revealed. "We need information on the Collector homeworld and how to navigate the Omega 4 relay. This is our best chance."

"How damaged was the ship?" Jacob asked, pushing his hands off of the table, and shaking his head. He didn't look convinced, and looking around the room, Miranda could see others seemed to be sharing his wariness. "It's hard to believe a turian patrol could take out that ship."

Miranda was inclined to agree with her fellow Cerberus Operative. The Collectors had advanced technology that was on full display in their weapons and ships. It had successfully destroyed the first Normandy, and during Horizon it had been able to escape being pummeled by AA cannons with little to no damage. So how was it possible a turian patrol could have successfully disabled one of these vessels?

"From the reports we've gathered, the hull is still intact, but all their systems are offline," Shepard explained. "They could be working on repairs now, that is why it is paramount we go in."

He must have sensed some of the wariness of the others as he closed out of the terminal. The projection of the Collector ship fizzling out, he put his hands behind his back as he addressed the room. "I won't lie to you. This mission will be extremely dangerous, but make no mistake I am confident that we can get in, get what we need, and kick some Collector ass."

Miranda looked around to see his words sinking in with the other members of their squad. A ripple of agreement spread through them. Signs of wariness were beginning to fade; doubts and concerns from expressions were being lifted and replaced with determination and confidence. This was Shepard's greatest strength. This was his greatest gift. This was how he had been able to rally the colonists at Elysium to thwart the massive strike from pirates and slavers. This was how he was able to convince the first Normandy crew to follow him to Ilos despite the consequences. It was an impressive sight to behold.

"This is why you're all here. It is our turn to strike. The tides are turning, and soon it will be the Collectors who are reeling. Just like with Horizon, we will test ourselves against them, and we will triumph. Let them know that we will not go quietly. We will not allow them to harvest us. This is the beginning of the end for the Collectors and their reign of terror."

"Entering the ship?" Garrus repeated, his mandibles twitched, but the turian's expression was impossible to decipher as his small blue eyes fixed on the projection. "We've done crazier things."

"Bringing the fight to the Collectors?" Grunt asked, a deep rumbling laugh ensued before he slapped his fist against his chest plate, and his face split into a smile, "I like it."

"Many lives can be saved if we can stop them," Thane agreed, the drell assassin had his hands clasped behind his back, and head lowered. "That alone is worth the risk."

Jacob hesitantly nodded his agreement, but Miranda wasn't sure if his hesitancy was towards the mission itself or that it was rooted to him agreeing with the assassin's reasoning.

"I'm with you, Shepard," Tali proclaimed.

"Hell, why not," Jack shrugged.

"I'm game," Drek agreed.

Satisfied, that the squad was with him. "We should be arriving shortly, get your gear and meet me in the hangar." He took a few strides towards the door, before stopping and turning back to face them. "We're entering the abyss," he announced. His words casual, his expression serious, his walk determined as he left the room, the others trickling out behind him.

Miranda lingered alone, reflecting on Shepard's choice of words to describe the Collector Ship. It reminded her of something she read long ago back when she was under her father's tutelage. Something that stuck with her throughout her time with Cerberus, a lesson she never could forget.

"_Whoever fights with monsters should see to it that does not become a monster in the process. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you."*_

Reflecting on the passage, her thoughts drifted to Shepard and his perilous fight against the Reapers and Collectors. Reading Shepard's strategy, the tactics and choices he was willing to make to stop them, the ruthlessness that would be needed in order to prevail. The toll from the choices he's already made was beginning to show in his appearance and psyche. And In her heart she wondered would Shepard truly become them in order to destroy them? She had her answer as quickly as she posed the question. Yet, it brought her no comfort just more conflict.

* * *

><p>The first thing Miranda thought when she stepped out of the shuttle and into the Collector Ship was the resemblance it had with some sort of insect hive. It was like stepping into a sauna. It was moist and humid. She felt a sense of foreboding cling to her like a shadow. Clicks and clatter, hisses and what sounded like moans reverberated off the walls, echoing from the darkness. The sources of these eerie noises were hidden in the shadows where the dim lights of the ship could not reach.<p>

"Never seen a ship like this before," Grunt grumbled beside her. The tank bred krogan held his shotgun tight, while his eyes stared into the darkness, vigilant for any signs of the enemy.

"I love what they've done with the place," Garrus remarked dryly. The turian was up ahead with Thane and Jacob, Shepard, Drek, and Jack followed them with Miranda, Grunt, and Tali serving as rear guard. Neither the krogan nor the quarian were talking, both taking in their surroundings of the vessel, not that Miranda was about to complain, she preferred silence to superfluous noise such as pointless chatter. Yet, she wasn't given true silence since up a head Shepard and Drek were talking, but she was only really half listening to their conversation.

"So it's all set up?"

"Yeah," replied the batarian, "the program was successfully downloaded and installed into your omni-tool."

"So it should work?"

"I linked it myself," Drek assured him, "Just be careful, Shepard with voice commands. You need to speak clearly and precisely."

"Yeah, Shepard we don't need you to accidently summon your combat drone on us…again," Garrus pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah," Shepard said, a hint of amusement seeped into his otherwise clipped tone. "EDI, do you have that report for me?"

"Yes, Commander," was the ship's AI's reply, crackling in Miranda's earpiece. "Ladar scans do not detect any hull breaches on the side facing us. I detect no mass effect field distortions. It appears the drive core is offline."

The squad was slow and steady as they made their way through the disabled collector vessel. The corridors were mostly plunged in shadows with scant light provided for them, causing them to use the lights on their suit to see where they were going. Moisture could be seen dripping from the ceilings, and trickling down the walls, the earth tone material that made up this ship looked to be organic.

"Where's the salarian?" Garrus mused, "I'm sure he would love a place like this to study."

"He has other research to complete," Shepard answered in a tone that signaled the topic was closed for discussion.

"Penetrating scans have detected an access node to uplink with Collector Databases," EDI's voice returned in their earpieces, "Marking location to your hardsuit computer."

Sure enough, Miranda heard the soft _bing_ in her ear from her own hardsuit computer signaling that she had received the coordinates.

"Thanks, EDI," Shepard replied, "Anything else you can tell us?"

"Yes, I have compared this ship's EM signature to known Collector profiles. This is the vessel you encountered on Horizon."

"Maybe the defense turrets softened it up for the turians?" Shepard surmised, but he didn't sound convinced of the theory.

"The missing colonists might still be on-board," Garrus observed, "If they're still alive."

"This isn't a rescue mission," Shepard replied. "Our mission is securing information and other valuable intel on the Collectors."

"Understood, Commander," After the turian's reply, silence fell on the squad as they climbed another steep embankment. At the top of the mound Miranda noticed an ethereal glow hovering above the area. As they reached the top they found the source of the light. It was the pods that the Collectors used to transport the colonists.

Stepping closer to investigate the containers, Miranda felt a chill go up her spine at the thought of being trapped in one of these tubes; fully conscious, but paralyzed, and left to the whim of the mysterious but very dangerous Collectors. It was a terrible fate, and a fate that was being shared with far too many human colonists. The Alliance didn't see that, Cerberus did. It was Cerberus who was making strides in trying to stop the Collectors, while the Alliance continued to deny the Reapers and the Collector threat.

"It's small like my tank," Grunt grumbled.

Jack kept her distance from the pod, a dark, wary look in her eyes. The biotic convict looked to be on edge, muttering under her breath before she turned and left the area. Her behavior and reaction was unsurprising for Miranda, remembering how they found Jack in purgatory, in a cryo pod. It seemed these Collector tubes brought on uncomfortable memories for the convict.

The squad didn't linger long on the discarded pods moving forward and deeper into the bowels of the disabled Collector vessel. They hadn't gone very far before they discovered another grisly scene. Molded, stacked, and morphed together was a large mound of human bodies. Limbs, heads, torsos, all of them mixed together to form a sickening sight. The flesh varied in stages of decay. Hands and feet poked out of the mound of bodies,

"This is bad," Garrus said, the disgust clear in his voice.

"That's a lot of meat," Grunt observed grimly.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Jacob said, backing away.

Miranda's stomach clenched and churned. Wondering what the Collectors gained from doing this atrocious act. Were these simply rejects to their experiments, or was this the culmination and fate for every colonist they abducted? It was difficult for the Cerberus Operative to fathom.

Shepard was the only one who approached the pile of bodies. Crouching down and surveying the pieces of human flesh, he was silent in his studies. Leaving Miranda to only wonder what was going through his head as he took in this abhorred sight. After a silent minute, he stood back up, his expression concealed behind the Death Mask he wore.

"No one deserves this," Tali said mournfully.

"Too few in life ever get what they deserve," Thane replied, the drell assassin had his head bowed, and looked to have been praying for these lost souls.

* * *

><p>When the last Collector fell it gave the squad a quick reprieve, allowing them a moment to catch their breath. They had been the targets of a near perfect ambush set up by Harbinger and carried out by the Collectors. Once they all stepped onto the platform and then tried to download EDI into the console, the trap had been triggered causing the platform to be carried deeper into the ship where the Collectors were waiting to strike. The squad was attacked by Collector troops, husks, abominations, and a pair of scions, being orchestrated by the Reaper known as Harbinger who possessed more than a handful of its Collector drones before the battle was over.<p>

Yet, it was a two pronged attack, targeting the squad while simultaneously attacking the Normandy's systems through a sophisticated virus that they had unwillingly uploaded when EDI connected with the Collector's terminal. Both attacks would've been successful if not for the Collectors having under estimated not just Shepard and his squad, but EDI as well.

The battle was over, but it was far from finished. Miranda had no doubts that Harbinger was preparing to launch a second strike on them as they remained in their vulnerable position. The handful of platforms they now stood on hovered over an abyss below them, deep within the bowels of the ship. EDI may have blocked Harbinger's virus, but damage had been done. And it seemed substantial. The AI was being blocked out of several key programs thus thwarting its attempts to relay helpful instructions and directions in freeing them from their current mess.

_Squish_

A chortle followed the nauseating wet crunching sound.

Miranda turned in the direction of the sound to find its source.

It was Grunt. The tank-born krogan liked to step on the Collector heads after they were killed. Looking pleased with himself, he went over to another fallen Collector and crushed its head beneath his massive foot. He gave another deep rumbling laugh, looking up from the gooey remnants of the Collector's caved in skull to see her inquisitive look.

"Keeps 'em from glowing."

She was surprised to see some logic in the krogan's thinking. She had witnessed the Reaper known as Harbinger possess a Collector drone that she had personally killed. It seemed it could only possess those recently killed as long as their bodies remained intact. Something it could no longer due if the dead Collector troops all had their skulls crushed. Miranda was also sure that he was enjoying every minute of it.

Turning away from the sight of Grunt stepping on another Collector head, but she didn't avoid hearing the wet squishy noise it made she tried to refocus her attention on what Shepard was doing. She spotted the Commander with Garrus, and Drek by the Collector command console. Before she could ask for their progress she was greeted by a most welcome sight-EDI's avatar appearing above the console.

"Connection reestablished. I need to finish the download before I can override any systems."

Shepard nodded, "did you get what we needed?"

"I found data that could help us successfully navigate the Omega 4 Relay."

_Mission accomplished, _Miranda thought, with that key piece of information in their hands, they could take the fight to the Collectors; attack their homeworld, and end the Collector threat once and for all.

"I've also found the turian distress call that served as the lure for this trap." EDI's voice broke through Miranda's musings. "The Collectors were the source. It is unusual."

"How so?" asked Miranda, curious with how the distress call piqued the AI's interest.

"It is unusual because turian emergency channels have secondary encryption. It is corrupted in this message." EDI explained. "It is not possible that the Illusive Man would believe the distress call was genuine.

Miranda didn't like what the AI was implying. "How can you be so sure?"

"I found the anomaly with Cerberus detection protocols. He wrote them."

"He lied to us?" Jacob asked, caught off guard by EDI's report. The Cerberus Operative looking quite troubled at the deception orchestrated by the Illusive Man.

"Of course he did," Jack sneered, "I knew Cerberus couldn't be trusted."

"We don't know-" Miranda began, but was cut off before she could go any further.

"Wake up, cheerleader." Jack was shaking her head, her tone seeping with smug self-satisfaction at being able to point out Cerberus' flaws. The others in the squad looked to be agreeing with Jack's viewpoint, which only seemed to widen her grin.

"Enough," Shepard growled, silencing her at once. He turned to face the rest of them, the red slits of his Death Mask glowing, "I would've done the same thing."

Jack's grin vanished, wiped away by a look of disbelief that quickly shifted to suspicion, her eyes hardened, as she looked at him warily. She scoffed, and shook her head before muttering, "Figures."

"We got company," Garrus called out, gesturing with his assault rifle at two pairs of platforms coming towards them, teaming with Collector troops, husks, abominations, and two more scions.

_Great, more bloody scions, _she inwardly scowled. She was quick to find cover behind one of the low walls that crisscrossed across the connecting platforms. They served as the only source of cover for them on the platforms, and without them they would've been left completely exposed.

"Spread out," Shepard called, crouching behind another one a short distance from where Miranda was holed up.

Garrus and Thane were positioned together, at the furthest platform from the approaching ones, safely tucked away, with their sniper rifles out, and had already begun to open. Their shots were true as several Collectors went down their bodies tumbling off of the platforms and into the abyss below. The two platforms finally connected with the others with a hiss and a rumble, husks and abominations stormed off of them charging towards the nearest squad mates-Jack, Grunt, and Jacob.

Jack was waiting for them, she sent a shockwave into their ranks, smashing the first few it collided with turning them into a messy pulp of flesh while causing the remaining husks and abominations to scatter some of them losing their traction and slipping off of the platforms and down into the darkness below.

"For Tuchanka!" Grunt bellowed, charging into the scattered ranks of the husks and abominations, blasting them with his shotgun or mowing them down with his berserker charge.

Some of the remaining husks began pawing and clawing at Grunt, who had allowed himself to become swallowed up in their numbers, using his shotgun like a club and his head plate to keep them at-bay.

Jacob was able to give some assistance as he enveloped a handful of them into a strong pull field, as the husks captured in the dark energy began floating upwards. A chortling Grunt raised his shotgun to finish them off, giving Jacob a nod of gratitude when the last dead husk fell. The unlikely fighting pair were soon forced to take cover as a handful of Collectors opened fire on them.

Tali, Drek, and Shepard had unleashed their combat drones, keeping the Collector troops occupied as they fought off the pesky, but dangerous drones. Those who were distracted were easily dealt with by bullets, mostly coming from Miranda and Shepard. Tali and Drek continued their tech power assault on the nearest Collector soldiers.

When she took down another Collector, Miranda surveyed the battlefield from her position. The husks and abominations had been completely eradicated, the Collector troops were dwindling, but the two scions remained the truest threat, as they continued their assault with their powerful shockwaves one after another.

"Take them down, damn it!" Shepard shouted as he sprinted from his cover, narrowly missing a passing shockwave, he scurried over to Miranda's position. The Commander didn't so much as give her a second look when he squatted beside her, his back to the cover, with his head looking over his shoulder to see the area layout in front of them.

"ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL." Harbinger had reentered the battle taking the possession of a Collector soldier close towards Drek and Tali.

"Shit," Shepard growled from beside her. "I hate that fucking bastard."

"We can take him," Miranda called up her biotics, the dark energy enveloping her and giving her a bluish hue.

"Damn right," he replied, turning his assault rifle towards the Harbinger possessed Collector he opened fire.

It only took a few shots to draw Harbinger's attention. The orange pulsating possessed Collector turned its stare towards them, "Shepard."

Miranda didn't wait another second, unleashing a powerful warp, the biotic attack pummeled Harbinger, staggering the Collector and allowing Drek and Tali to finish it off with their shotguns.

"Releasing this form," were its last words before the Collector crumbled into ashes.

She let loose a breath, feeling slightly strained from the powerful biotic attack.

"You okay?" He must have sensed her fatigue.

She never had a chance to answer.

A Collector suddenly appeared lunging at Shepard, causing the Commander to lose his assault rifle, and the Collector its own weapon in the process, but that didn't dampen either of them as they resorted to trading blows with their fists.

She was about to send a warp towards it when a second Collector fluttered overhead and opened fire on her, she rolled out of the way missing the particle blast. Miranda still on her knees took aim and fired with her pistol, the Collector zipped to its left to avoid the gunfire, but a few of the bullets hit its delicate insect wings causing it to lose its balance and come spiraling back down towards the platform. Not waiting for its crash landing, she emptied the remainder of her clip into the falling Collector. It collapsed in a heap and with a loud crunch, but the dozen or so bullet holes in its head and torso showed that it had been dead before it crashed onto the platform.

A wave of pulsating dark energy caused the platforms to rumble, Miranda knew at once what it was- a shockwave. She instinctively leapt backwards hoping to avoid the deadly scion attack, missing it, she watched in horror as the shockwave smashed into Shepard and the Collector, the two staggered backwards, while cracks of the dark energy rippled and glowed on the two inflicting more pain and inciting Shepard to shout out in pain.

It happened in a split second but to Miranda Lawson it felt like an eternity as she helplessly watched what happened next.

Shepard and the Collector stumbled, clearly uncoordinated and still reeling from the shockwave, but there was no platform behind them, so when Shepard went backwards his feet didn't find solid footing only empty space. Unable to stop his momentum he tumbled off of the platform with the Collector right behind him.

"Shepard!" She shouted, scrambling to the ledge to see him swallowed up by the darkness below.

He was gone. Shepard had fallen into the abyss.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

***Beyond Good and Evil, aphorism #146- Friedrich Nietzsche**

**Not a perfect fit, but I've always liked that quote and thought it had some merit for the scene and the situation that Shepard faces.**


	12. 11: Harbinger

**A/N: I do plan on finishing this story. I just need my muse to remain cooperative. **

**We will Rise**

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Eleven: Harbinger**

_Let's not do that again._

The Butcher of Torfan lay on his side which had taken the brunt of the impact when his fall had ended rather abruptly when he smashed against what he thought was another one of those collector platforms.

Like the ones above, Shepard was hopeful that this platform came with some sort of console. That way he could activate it, and be able to reunite with his squad and then get the hell off this ship.

Blearily looking up he could still see the faint outlines of the platforms that he and his squad had just been fighting on. He couldn't be sure how long or how far he had fallen when he was knocked off the platform, but for the moment he knew his squad remained on the platforms above him, and they were safe. Yet, he wasn't a fool. He understood that the Collectors would retaliate swiftly and throw even more numbers at them.

Pain lanced through his side as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He hissed at the discomfort, but remained sitting as he administrated the medi-gel through his omni-tool and was thankful when the pain began to ebb in his side.

"Shepard?" An accented voice crackled in his ear. "Shepard, do you read me?"

"I'm here."

"Good." Miranda Lawson's tone was clipped and casual. The Ice Queen persona was on full display since they were sharing an open channel with the rest of the squad.

It didn't bother Shepard. If anything it only made him respect her more. She was selfless, putting the mission before her own feelings. She was able to remain focus even through tough adversities. It was one of the traits that he admired most about her.

"Battle master!" Grunt's voice thundered in Shepard's earpiece.

"Damn, Shepard," that was Drek. "I didn't think you would survive that fall."

"Do I need to come rescue you, Shepard?" Garrus asked dryly.

Garrus' remarks were enough for him to crack a smile. "That would be a first, Garrus." He knew his joke landed when he heard the sound of not just Garrus chuckling, but other members of the squad as well.

"Where are you, Shepard?" Miranda's stern voice broke through the mirthful atmosphere. She was willing to be the hardliner in the group in order for them not to get sidetracked. It wasn't a desirable job, but that never seemed to bother Miranda. It wasn't popularity that she wanted, but results.

"Somewhere below the platforms," It wasn't the best answer, but it was all he had at the moment.

"Are you injured?" The barest hint of concern lingered in her tone. It went ignored or unseen by the others.

"I'm fine," he lied, ignoring the numbing pain that still resonated within his side despite the medi-gel. "Chakwas can have me patched up in no time." He could already picture the Normandy's doctor's friendly frown when he arrived to the med bay after this mission. "She wouldn't have it any other way."

"Have you ever completed a mission without having to go to the med bay afterwards, Shepard?" Garrus asked.

"I like to keep the good doctor busy."

"Shepard," Miranda's voice cut through the banter between Shepard and Garrus. "Do you see the control console?"

"Let me check," he got to his feet, his hand on the wall to help brace him. He was unsteady, his legs wobbled beneath him. He took a few cautious steps, keeping his hand on the wall as he moved around it to get in view of the control console.

"Yeah, I see it," he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good," Miranda's severity was slightly lessened at the news. "EDI will walk you through priming the platform and directing it back to us."

"Understood," Shepard replied. "There's something else."

"What?" Miranda asked attentively.

"The collector who fell with me," he relayed, spotting the collector by the console. It was on its back and unmoving. It didn't seem to pose any sort of threat.

"Is it alive?"

"No," Shepard answered, "But I'm not taking any chances."

"ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL."

The collector suddenly began writhing on the ground as it was enveloped by a fiery glow. The sudden sight of the supposedly dead collector become possessed was enough to momentarily enthrall Shepard who silently watched the process. He knew it was complete when the now possessed collector bolted to its feet. The Collector drone was now a vehicle for the Reaper known as Harbinger.

"Shit," Shepard opened fire on the possessed collector.

Undeterred by the bullets, Harbinger launched itself towards him. Swatting the pistol out of Shepard's hand, leaving the first human Spectre helpless as he watched it bounce off of the platform.

"Shepard," Harbinger growled, before delivering a pulsating punch which connected with Shepard's chest plate that sent him reeling.

He tumbled several feet from the bone breaking punch, unable to keep his balance he fell on his back. Pain flooded through his body while he groaned and stirred on the ground. He felt as if he had just been run over by a Mako.

Shepard raised his head slightly, fighting the sudden wave of dizziness that met his movement. His eyes went to his now dented chest plate. It had been dented inwards from the impact of Harbinger's punch, hairline cracks spread from the centre point resembling a spidery web across his chest plate.

_That wasn't good, _he groaned. He propped himself up by his elbows fighting through the pain that was coursing through him.

"Shepard?" Miranda's voice was buzzing in his ear. "What's going on?"

"I…I," he stammered, with the wind knocked out of him it was difficult for him to speak. "I have company."

Miranda's voice was drowned out by Harbinger. The collector drone's body pulsated with energy giving it a haunting hue, while its eyes which were already darker then the void itself were now wreathed in a fiery tint that made it look as if the Collector's four eyes were ablaze.

"You cannot avoid the inevitable tide that will sweep across the galaxy."

"Shepard?" Miranda's icy persona was cracking as genuine concern seeped into her tone.

She wasn't the only one. A wave of voices from his other squad members filled Shepard's head instantaneously all of them talking at once. The tangle of voices was enough to bring about a growing headache for the already dizzy Commander. His disoriented mind had problems sifting through the bundle of voices.

Wanting to stop the headache he cut off his earpiece to the others. The risky action provided him with silence and he was rewarded when the headache began to subside. However, looking forward he realized he had other problems to worry about seeing the Harbinger possessed collector approach him.

Harbinger yanked Shepard to his feet effortlessly. The abrupt and jerky movements were enough for Shepard to bring back his dizziness. He was barely able to register the possessed collector's face which was only inches away from his.

"This is true power!" Harbinger slammed Shepard into the wall, eliciting a grunt from him and a loud crack from his armor that signaled further damaged had been done.

The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, but he refused to show weakness in front of Harbinger. Shepard raised his head, his vision still hazy from having his head slammed against the wall, but that didn't stop him from meeting Harbinger's cold deadly stare.

"What…What are you?"

"Your salvation."

He felt icy talons of fear clasp around his heart at the unexpected and chilling answer. Shepard tried to move but Harbinger's grip was too strong, one hand on Shepard's left gauntlet and the other on his chest plate. He was effectively pinned to the wall and at the whim of Harbinger.

"That's not what I'd call it," Shepard barked out a laugh. It was hoarse, and weak.

"You do not yet comprehend your place in the universe."

"My place?" Shepard scoffed.

Harbinger's hand that was resting on Shepard's chest plate moved to his throat and began to squeeze. "We will ascend humanity onto a new plane of existence."

"Y-You mean husks!" he spat; white splotches were beginning to creep into his vision.

"You will know pain, Shepard," Harbinger taunted, its grip on Shepard's gauntlet was getting so tight that he could hear the material beginning to crack.

"S-So what are you w-waiting for?" Shepard shouted defiantly, "K-Kill me!"

That caused Harbinger to loosen its grip around Shepard's throat. "Kill you, Shepard?" It repeated in an almost mocking tone.

"Yeah, that's what you want." Shepard was silently relieved that the pressure had been loosened. The white splotches in his vision were receding, and his breaths were slow and haggard, but not as painful as it had been under Harbinger's suffocating grip.

"It will not be swift," Harbinger revealed. "As you breathe and squirm, we will carve open your body to study your genetic material and to measure your potential."

He tasted the bile burning in his throat as he reflected on the horrendous fate that the Reapers had in store for him.

"You will live, Shepard," Harbinger assured him. "We will break you down in order for you to reach transcendence."

_That couldn't be good, _he felt his stomach give a painful lurch. There was no way in hell he was going to allow the Reapers to repurpose him. To turn his body into their laboratory to allow them to dissect him while he still breathed. Or worse twist him through indoctrination and implants the way Sovereign did to Saren. He would not allow himself to become their tool and their herald.

"There is a united galaxy out there that will stop you!" His tone was strong to camouflage the lie and his doubts on the very words he spoke.

"Your kind cannot comprehend our power," Harbinger replied, its dark eyes blazing in an orange glow.

"Even now our pawns are in motion, infiltrating your ranks, waiting on our orders to bring your governments down. Just like the cycles before you. You cannot resist. You will fail. It is inevitable."

_Indoctrination, _Shepard thought numbly, understanding at once what Harbinger was referring to at the mention of pawns. A sliver of fear stirred in his heart upon realizing that the Reapers had already successfully permeated the ranks of the different species' governments.

Harbinger was right. Shepard could never comprehend the Reapers purpose or their power. But that didn't mean he was going to lie down and accept his fate.

"C-Combat drone engage."

A whistle and a swirl of light appeared behind Harbinger as the combat drone materialized. It quickly let loose an electric charge towards Harbinger. It snarled turning towards the drone that it saw as nothing more than a pest.

It was the distraction that Shepard needed with Harbinger's attention on the combat drone. It was his turn to strike. His omni-blade shimmered to life before he plunged it into the collector's back between its shoulder blades, cutting deep into the collector's flesh.

Harbinger let out a half growl and half groan at the surprise attack. "This isn't over, Shepard." The collector trembled, as the pulsating energy around it began to wane, "Releasing this form." The collector crumpled to the ground before turning to dust.

The omni blade dissipated as did the combat drone.

Shepard collapsed to his knees. The beating he had taken from Harbinger had only added to the injuries and pain he had experienced from the fall itself. His back ached from where Harbinger had slammed it against the wall. He was still a bit woozy from when he nearly suffocated under Harbinger's grip. The pain in his side from the fall had returned in full force.

"Shepard!" a recognizable voice cried out in the darkness.

Confused, he raised his head to see a figure approaching him. He was unsure if he was hallucinating or not when the figure turned into Miranda Lawson.

"What happened?" she crouched down in front of him, but made no move to embrace him or comfort him. Instead, she used her omni-tool to scan him to get a proper diagnosis on his injuries.

When their eyes met he could see the genuine fear and relief shimmer in her blue eyes. The rare display of vulnerability on her end nearly had him grab her hand, but he restrained himself.

The two lovers' reunion was neither romantic nor emotional. It was interrupted as abruptly as it had started when the other squad members followed behind Miranda. Garrus and Tali were the next to reach Shepard; Tali's voice was unbridled in her genuine concern for his health and her relief at his survival. Even Garrus, guarded and disciplined, his tone had given way to his relief at seeing Shepard having survived his ordeal.

"What's the diagnosis?" Shepard asked.

Miranda frowned. "You've suffered a few cracked ribs, with some other sprains and other contusions, but no broken bones, it seems." She stood up from her crouched position.

"That all?" He had been expecting worse, but nonetheless he was sure that he would be seeing the inside of the med bay for at least a day or two once they returned to _the Normandy._

He pushed himself to his feet refusing assistance when Garrus tried to offer it. He winced when he came to his full height. Looking up to see the other squad mates a respectful distance from him. Their bodies signaled their weariness at their tough fight against the Collectors, but many of them straightened up when he turned in their direction. Determined and willing to keep fighting to insure they successfully completed this mission.

He was pleased and proud of all of them. He wasn't going to lie to them and tell them the worse of the fight was behind them, because he knew even now Harbinger was direction his collector minions and reaper tools-husks, scions, and abominations to try to intercept or destroy them from leaving this ship.

So instead, he kept it simple, and light.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I think I've had enough of this ship."

* * *

><p><em>It was such a simple thing.<em>

Shepard mused as he took in his reflection in the mirror of his private bathroom. And for the longest time he couldn't do it without feeling anger and revulsion bubbling up within. When Cerberus brought him back to life with the Lazarus Project, Shepard was plagued by these grisly fiery scars that covered most of his face and had even reached down onto his neck. Even his blue eyes weren't spared; the scars had degenerated leading to glowing sections to appear within the irises.

His scars had only worsened due to his ruthless tendencies. The Butcher of Torfan finally resembled the monster that so many believed he was due to his previous actions and decisions throughout his service. Strangers would flinch at his appearance when he passed them. Even some of his crewmembers couldn't look him in the eyes, unable to take in his grisly appearance, while others could only stare at them, ensnared by the scars' grotesqueness.

He had never been a superficial person, but the scars on his face and neck had made him extremely sensitive about his appearance. They were a reminder of his death, that he had been pulled out of the void and brought back to life. The only evidence of his resurrection remained with these scars- _the touch of death,_ he heard some of the crewmembers call them.

The scars reminded him of something besides his death, they were a testament of the methods Cerberus used to resurrect him. Flesh synthesized with cybernetic implants. He was no longer just a man; he was something more.

These constant reminders of his death and what it took to bring him back to life had shaken Shepard to his core. He had been deeply troubled by it all. Haunted by the memories of his death, he had tried to bury it. All of the pain, the emotions, the memories, he buried deep within himself. He had put up his stoic soldier persona, the unshaken role as Commander, and continued to move forward focused on the Collectors and Reapers in his unwavering duty in stopping them.

And yet all it took was one glance at his scars to undo everything. All of the memories, and painful emotions he tried to bury would come flooding back to him at the sight of those scars.

Now they were finally gone. Chakwas had removed them during Shepard's short stay in the med bay following their mission within the Collector ship and his confrontation with Harbinger. The reddish cracks in his skin had dissipated. There wasn't the faintest hint or trace of the ugly scars that had come from the Lazarus Project.

Looking at his reflection, he couldn't help but smile. He ran his hand across his cheek, no longer feeling the cracks and bumps of the scars that had once marred his face, now all his fingers felt were the rough stubble of dark hair.

_We are your salvation_.

Shepard recoiled. Surprised, and caught off guard by the sudden reminder of his encounter with Harbinger onboard the collector ship. He was half expecting to see the possessed collector drone looking back at him, but it wasn't there just Shepard's reflection.

He sighed. Rubbing at his eyes, having had enough he left the bathroom he still felt some discomfort from his brief, but brutal altercation with Harbinger. Chakwas had assured him that it would go away completely in the next few days.

Shepard wasn't worried about the bruises that he suffered from Harbinger it was the memories that were bothering him. When he replayed Harbinger's threats in his mind, the words had been grave and the warnings were ominous.

This wasn't a war for the Reapers it was a purge. There would be battles and skirmishes, but that wouldn't stop the Reapers from completing their objectives of harvesting every species in the galaxy.

_We are beyond your comprehension, _Sovereign had told Shepard this when they were on Virmire. It was there that Shepard had discovered the horrifying truth in realizing the true evil behind the rogue Spectre Saren. The threat that was great enough to wipe out the entire galaxy-the Reapers.

There were only a few instances in Shepard's life where he had felt genuine fear. His first encounter with Sovereign on Virmire was on his short list, as was his final confrontation with Saren on the Citadel, the destruction of the first Normandy, and the most recent addition was his altercation with Harbinger aboard the Collector ship.

This fear was difficult for him to describe. It came to him like an icy numbness that wormed its way into his heart, chilling his blood, slowing his thoughts and all but paralyzing him. It was a fear that he could not bury. That he could not overcome with courage or adrenaline. It left him exposed and vulnerable in ways that unnerved him.

"Commander Shepard?" EDI's voice broke through his musings.

Thankful for the sudden, but much needed reprieve, he turned to the AI's avatar that appeared in its spot, "Yes, EDI?"

"Liara has located the justicar," EDI informed him, "And has just sent us her last known location."

"Thank you, EDI," Shepard replied.

After their fight with the Collectors, _the Normandy _had returned to Illium since Shepard wasn't able to go on anymore missions for a couple of days. Shepard took this reprieve in stride, overseeing the installation of several new upgrades for _the Normandy, _which should pay dividend when they were ready to go through the Omega 4 relay.

It had been Miranda's idea to recruit the justicar. She suggested that they use this time on Illium to try to track the justicar who had been linked to Illium from their dossier on her. Miranda had made a strong case that the justicar's strong biotics, weapon training, and extensive biotic combat experience was a needed addition to their squad.

Shepard had been against the justicar from the beginning when he first received her dossier. His study of her Order's history made him wary of including her into the fray. He was sure that he and this Samara would not see eye to eye on many things, and that their different viewpoints would no doubt clash. Her deep rooted and unflappable sense of justice troubled him.

Yet, in the end Miranda convinced him in saying that the only viewpoint they needed to share for this mission was the threat the Collectors and Reapers posed. So in the end, Shepard relented and agreed to include the justicar in his squad. He knew they needed someone of this Samara's skills to help them in their fight against the Collectors especially since Shiala didn't seem anywhere near fit or ready to resume in their missions.

Chakwas and Mordin were continuing in their discreet studying of Shiala's connection with the Thorian back on Feros and her own indoctrination experience under Sovereign. So far, none of the results had been to Shepard's liking. He was still convinced that Shiala remained the key in discovering a way to effectively combat and hopefully nullify Reaper indoctrination.

After his confrontation with Harbinger, he was more determined than ever to find a way.

For now, he had to focus on recruiting this justicar. He could only hope this was the right decision.

_This justicar better be worth it._

* * *

><p>It was done.<p>

It wasn't a smooth recruitment, and it involved infiltrating an Eclipse secret base and fighting off the relentless mercenaries to secure some trivial information about a passenger they harbored to secure passage off planet.

The information meant nothing to Shepard, but the justicar's very purpose seemed to revolve around it. The recruitment took an unexpected turn when Samara swore an Oath of Subsumation to Shepard: Pledging her services, her loyalty, and her life to Shepard for the duration of their mission against the Collectors.

The Oath seemed to have impressed the asari detective Anaya, but it meant nothing to Shepard, especially after Samara admitted that she may be forced to kill Shepard if she witnessed or was forced to do _dishonorable things_ under his behest.

If that was the case then Shepard was prepared to handle the justicar if need be. He wasn't going to allow this deluded justicar to judge him on her version of justice and her narrow minded Order. He wouldn't allow anyone to get in the way of his duty, and for the moment, he saw this Samara as more of a threat then an ally, and one that needed to be watched.

For the moment, Shepard had to put aside his suspicions of the justicar.

He was in his cabin, but he wasn't alone. Miranda, Garrus, Tali, Drek, and Jacob were with him, all of them were watching the live broadcast from Shepard's terminal projection on his ship display case. They were all showing various levels of annoyance and frustration at the broadcast. They were voicing their discontent loudly at the historical event that was unfolding before them. Except for Miranda, she remained silent, but her cold eyes signaled the fury that was storming beneath her ice queen persona.

It was a live feed from the Citadel inside the Council Chambers, as the Council had just named Kaidan Alenko a Spectre. Shepard's former squad mate became only the second human to be sworn into the prestigious ranks of Council Spectres and with Shepard's earlier dismissal from the Spectres, it made Kaidan the only active human Spectre.

The Council had just issued their orders for their newly minted Spectre: Bring Shepard in on charges of terrorism and treason for his alleged involvement with Cerberus. That got the loudest reaction from the viewers of Shepard's cabin.

"How could Kaidan agree to this?" Tali asked in complete disbelief. "He was at Virmire!"

"He is refusing to see the bigger threat," Garrus scoffed.

"It's all bullshit," Jacob dismissed, his voice betraying his disgust. "The Alliance, the Council, all of them." He threw up his hands in frustration.

"So what does this mean, Shepard?" Drek asked, shifting in his seat to face Shepard. His four eyes were unblinking, as the others one by one turned away from the broadcast and onto their Commander.

It was a sense of déjà-vu for Shepard. He could easily remember his own publicized appointment into the ranks of the hallowed Council Spectres. His orders so similar to the ones his former friend had just received. It had been tasked to Shepard to bring in the rogue Spectre Saren Arterius, and now Shepard was the rogue Spectre being hunted.

The irony amused him.

Despite all of it, he still had a job to do. His duty was in stopping the Collectors and he wasn't going to allow Kaidan to stop him. His former friend may have balked at the Reaper threat, but Shepard was determined to fight it, and if Kaidan got in his way, then Shepard would do what needed to be done.

Duty always came first for Commander Shepard: Elysium, Torfan, Feros, Virmire, the Battle of the Citadel, and now the Collectors. He would make sure they completed their mission. And if Kaidan had to be killed to insure their success, then Shepard would do it. Kaidan wouldn't be the first to be killed in the name of duty, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.

"It changes nothing." He looked around at the faces in front of him. "Our focus remains the same: Stopping the Collectors. Our fight is with the Reapers."

"And what if Kaidan tries to interfere?" Tali asked, her voice betraying her uncertainty.

"Then I'll kill him," Shepard answered without hesitation.

He saw the tight nod from Garrus. His turian friend had already had his taste of his allies betraying him. His outlook had relatively hardened from the experience.

He couldn't see Tali's expression behind her faceplate, but he had been around his quarian friend long enough to read her body language. She was wringing her hands on her lap, signaling her discomfort at the notion of having to kill their former squad mate, but it seemed Tali caught herself, looking down at her lap, immediately pulling her hands apart and having them rest on her lap. She then looked up at Shepard, and with a shaky breath, she nodded.

Jacob's expression soured briefly at the thought of having to kill Kaidan. He held a different sense of duty and outlook that vastly differed from Shepard's. He quickly hardened his expression into one of determination, but his eyes gave way to his lingering unease.

Drek was the hardest to read. Hardly on expert on batarian body language, Drek was the first batarian he even had a working partnership with, and if Shepard was honest with himself it had turned into friendship. So when he met his friend's four eyed stare, whose expression remained impossible to read, Shepard didn't know what to think. That was until Drek slightly tilted his head to the left.

The gesture completely caught Shepard off-guard, who was aware enough of batarian culture to understand that to be a show of respect. He thought that this move was a culmination of their time together and the friendship they had formed which had only been solidified when Shepard had helped Drek with his personal problem.

Shepard also understood the difficulty and rareness of this particular display from Drek to know it was proper to acknowledge it all be it subtly. So Shepard replied with a tight nod, which Drek returned.

His eyes met hers. Her face remained stoic. Her frosty veneer didn't reveal any of her thoughts or emotions on what he had just said. It was in her eyes that he could see her determination in seeing this mission through.

"We're with you, Shepard."


	13. 12: Leviathan

**A/N: A chapter like this helps distinguish this story as an AU novelization of Mass Effect 2. Despite the title this chapter is not about the Leviathan DLC or the species known as Leviathans, but the Leviathan of Dis…**

* * *

><p><strong>We will Rise<strong>

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter Twelve: Leviathan**

_Alchera…_

This was the site of their latest mission. However, this mission had nothing to do with recruiting a new squad member. It didn't involve fighting the Collectors. It wasn't even one of the missions that Cerberus Command had sent their way.

No, this mission was different from the others. It was personal. This one was for Commander Shepard. This was the site where the Collectors had ambushed _the Normandy SR-1 _resulting in the deaths of twenty crewmen including Commander Shepard.

Now, two years later Shepard had returned leading _the Normandy SR-2. _Then his mission was working for the Council and the Alliance to clean up geth outposts. Now, he was working with Cerberus to take down the Collectors.

For this personal mission, he had elected to go planet side alone. With the Alliance's help, he was going to plant a monument on _the Normandy_ crash site to pay respects to the fallen members of his crew. Admiral Hackett had personally sent the mission request to Shepard. Despite his mixed feelings on the Alliance, Shepard had felt obligated to see this mission through personally.

Miranda Lawson sighed.

This wasn't a return for her. She had never been to Alchera. However, her presence here stirred up emotions just as potent to those who were returning. For her, this was a reminder of what she had lost.

She could still remember receiving the call that changed her life. Being told the news that Commander Shepard had been killed. The man, who in a short amount of time had found a way past her defenses, and into her life. This remarkable man had looked past her Ice Queen persona, past her genetic tailoring, past her Cerberus affiliation to see the real her.

It was not just the news that had shaken her, but the assignment she had been given in the aftermath of the Commander's death. She had been assigned to do the impossible. She had been tasked to help bring her former lover back to life. She had started off as a consultant and had worked her way up as Project Director by the end of Project Lazarus. Where others had seen the impossible, Miranda would not. She was determined to find a way to bring him back.

The galaxy needed Commander Shepard to return. She needed him to return.

She looked up on her terminal to see a close up picture of the unassuming planet, Alchera. Knowing that right now, the man who she cared for above all others save for her sister was down there trying to make sense of the life he lived then and the life he must live now. A part of her had wanted to make the argument that she should go down there with him, but she had decided to remain silent.

Some things in life you needed to face alone. Just as she needed it when she finally mustered the courage to speak to Oriana, courage she never would have found if not for Shepard's support. She needed to give him that same support for his visit to Alchera.

While Shepard was forced to confront old ghosts, she was finalizing the upgrades on the mineral scanner. She hoped with these upgrades that the essential mining and probing needed to restock their resources could be done in a quicker amount of time. The last thing they needed was to waste precious time that should be used to chasing down the Collectors instead being spent orbiting unassuming planets because they needed more palladium.

It was not just Shepard down below that had Miranda's attention drifting away from her tedious work on the mineral scanner. Her interest was also drawn to the communication room where right now Drek was meeting with the Illusive Man. The batarian squad member had come to Miranda and had requested an audience with the leader of Cerberus.

It wasn't out of the ordinary for her since Miranda was the personal liaison for the Illusive Man onboard _the Normandy_. This wasn't even the first time since Drek had joined them that he had asked for a meeting with the leader of Cerberus.

No, what drew Miranda's interest was the length of this particular meeting. Already, it has been more than an hour since she set up the meeting, and there seemed to be no signs of when it would conclude. She was aware of the batarian's previous work as a Blue Suns informant for Cerberus, but she knew since coming aboard _the Normandy_ that Drek had been working on one particular file that had nothing to do with the Blue Suns.

_The Leviathan of Dis…_

She could still remember the brief, informative, but disappointing rehashing that Drek had given them when he had first joined them about the mysteries of this supposed Reaper; this defunct, but intact Reaper that has been in the possession of the Batarian Hegemony for decades.

The realization that one of humanity's greatest threats among the galactic community had their hands on Reaper tech had made the Cerberus Operative wary and nervous. There was no doubt in her mind that the Hegemony would try to use what they found from this Reaper into ways of threatening humanity. The bits of Sovereign that had rained down onto the Citadel following the battle had yielded huge leaps in technology and weapons for those who had been able to collect the Reaper pieces.

Two such examples could be found on this very ship, in the form of the recently installed Thanix cannon and in EDI, the ship's AI who had Reaper tech weaved into her Cerberus programming.

So to think what the Hegemony could be doing with an intact Reaper was cause for concern. Unrestricted by Council laws in research and military, the isolated species could become a very real and dangerous threat fairly quickly if they were successful in their studies of this defunct Reaper.

This type of threat to humanity could not be ignored. It was in Cerberus' best interest to sabotage the batarian's efforts whether by destroying the Reaper itself or the research that the batarians had gathered. If left unchecked, Miranda was certain that it would only be a matter of time before Hegemony sponsored aggression against human colonies in the Skyllian Verge would return in full force as they would now be fueled by unparallel Reaper tech and weapons. Those colonies wouldn't stand a chance.

"The Commanding Officer is aboard," EDI's voice intoned over the ship speakers. "XO Lawson stands relieved."

Pulled out of her musings on the Hegemony and the Leviathan of Dis by EDI's announcement, Miranda left her finished work with the mineral scanner to check in on Shepard. However, before she was even halfway to the elevator, EDI's voice returned over the loudspeakers.

"Commander Shepard requests the presence of Miranda Lawson, Garrus Vakarian, Jacob Taylor, and Tali'Zorah Vas Neema in the communication room."

_Interesting, _she mused as she got her new instructions. She couldn't help but wonder if Drek had finally found some form of solid evidence of a possible location of this mysterious Leviathan of Dis.

* * *

><p>Stepping into the communication room, she realized that she was the last to arrive. At the far end of the table was Shepard, his posture stiff and his face stoic. With the Lazarus scars having finally been successfully removed, his strong chin and sharp blue eyes were his prominent features once more helping to compliment his handsome face.<p>

His two oldest squad mates, Garrus and Tali were right beside him. The three were talking quietly, no doubt, the topic of the conversation on Shepard's return from Alchera. Garrus, who had been on _the Normandy_ when it was attacked by the Collectors, while Tali had at that point already left the Normandy crew so she could return to the Fleet to complete her pilgrimage.

All three looked up at Miranda's appearance. Garrus gave what could be passed off as a respectful nod in her direction. Tali's expression was hooded by her faceplate, but Miranda had picked up enough of the quarian's body language to recognize the lingering suspicion and hostility in her stance. Shepard, unlike the others showed no reaction, he met her stare without so much as a blink before turning back towards Garrus and Tali to finish their conversation.

She took his reaction in stride. If Miranda was honest with herself it was the reaction that she wanted to receive. She preferred it. She was fiercely private, and protected that privacy with a tenacity that could not be matched. The last thing she wanted was to be the center of crew gossip if it was discovered that she and Shepard were in a relationship. Even the hint or a whisper of it was not acceptable to Miranda Lawson.

They had gone to considerable lengths to keep it private, and they weren't going to chance their happiness and comfort at their developing relationship at being exploited because they were caught staring at the other during a mission or briefing.

She found Jacob standing off to the side giving the three friends a bit of space, but was close enough to throw in a word or two if needed.

Even though EDI hadn't called him to the communication room, Drek too was there. Miranda wasn't surprised by the batarian's presence, having figured that when they were called to this meeting in the first place that Drek would already be in the room waiting for them. His attention was on the terminal, not even looking up at Miranda's arrival. This further solidified Miranda's suspicions that Drek had uncovered something vital about the Leviathan of Dis.

"We're finally all here," Shepard said, breaking off from his secluded conversation with Garrus and Tali so that he could face the others around the table and get to the crux of why he called this meeting.

"More than two decades ago a genetically engineered starship was discovered by a batarian survey team on Jartar," Shepard began without preamble, "They placed the age at over one billion years old."

Miranda had already heard this story, remembering Drek telling it to them after his recruitment, but looking at Jacob's surprised look and hearing Tali's soft gasp, it was clear that Shepard was trying to catch them up with what they knew.

"This ship was called the Leviathan of Dis by salarian researchers who had documented the discovery," Shepard continued. "Shortly after its discovery, a batarian dreadnaught visited the Dis system in which the Leviathan then mysteriously disappeared."

"It was a Reaper," Tali said in a mixture of awe and surprise. "All this time we needed proof…"

"And the batarians had it," Jacob finished, shaking his head in dismay.

"That's correct," Shepard confirmed, before turning to Drek.

"The Leviathan of Dis is the most heavily guarded secret in the Hegemony," Drek looked up from the terminal. "Since its discovery the Hegemony has been actively studying it hoping to apply the Leviathan's technology to upgrade their weaponry, software, and tech."

"If it's such a secret then how do you know about it?" Tali asked.

It was a reasonable question for someone who wasn't aware of the batarian's back story. When they had first recruited him, Drek gave them a brief and curt explanation about how he came by the information and the cost he had to pay in finding out about it that included the loss of his brother.

As predicted, Drek bristled, his jaw clenched, and his upper set eyes were on the quarian.

"That's not important right now," Shepard intervened in an attempt to try to steer the conversation away from Drek having to relive the death of his brother.

The batarian seemed to appreciate it, since his upper set turned from Tali to Shepard and gave the Commander a nod. "Over the last few months more than a dozen freighters have gone missing in the Omega Nebula. The ships and the crew were never seen or heard from again."

_This was new, _Miranda realized. She hadn't heard about this minor detail. It had to be an important and relative one if it had caught Cerberus Command and Drek's attention.

"We couldn't find a connection until the two most recent captures," Drek continued, "One of the ships had a tracking device embedded in its cargo, and before it went offline its location pinpointed it somewhere in the Kite Nest system."

_Batarian space, _Miranda understood the implications at once. Was it possible the Hegemony had contracted slavers to provide test subjects for their studies of the Leviathan of Dis? The thought left a very cold feeling in her stomach.

"Slavers?" Jacob guessed.

"Yes," that was Shepard, "but these weren't typical slavers."

"There are typical slavers?" Garrus asked dryly, but the cold look in his eyes conveyed the turian's seriousness of the topic. It wasn't surprising since he had spent more than a year in Omega fighting the gangs who practiced slave and drug trafficking in the Traverse.

"You said two recent captures?" Tali pointed out. "What about the other one?"

_Good catch, _Miranda silently approved. She too was curious with what this other capture supposedly yielded that would cause a breakthrough for Drek and Cerberus in their attempts to crack some of the mysteries that surrounded the Leviathan of Dis.

"The last ship that was captured, one of the crewmen escaped," Drek answered, typing up something on the terminal before a hologram picture materialized over the table.

_It was of a young woman, she was pale, her countenance clouded by a mixture of suspicion and weariness, her eyes were alert, despite the dark circles under them and her short brown hair was messy and curly, further signaling that the subject has gone awhile without rest. _

_She seemed to be in some sort of interrogation room._

"_Tell me again what you saw?" asked the off camera voice._

"_I already told you," the woman snapped, there was a surprising amount of fierceness in her voice, "Every damn detail." _

"_We know, Ellen," The off camera voice replied, "And we're very appreciative of your assistance." The voice was soothe and reassuring. "One more time for the record," the voice paused, and it could be heard muttering something incoherently before adding, "And then we'll take you to your daughter."_

_The mention of the daughter perked Ellen. A glint could be seen in her eyes, before she relented with a nod, "Alright."_

"_Excellent," the voice sounded pleased, "From the beginning."_

"_They seized our ship."_

"_Slavers?" asked the voice._

"_No, they weren't slavers," the woman answered, her mood shifted quickly to display a small trace of fear in her expression. "They were… They were monsters."_

"_Monsters?" repeated the voice, bemused at her choice of description._

"_Yes, they… they resembled humans, but there wasn't anything human about them," answered Ellen. "Their flesh had been peeled away and replaced by tech that…that gave them a haunting glow, tubes went up their arms and neck towards their face and their eyes." She paused unable to suppress the shudder, "their eyes gave off this bluish glow, empty and soulless." _

_My God, _Miranda thought in horror. She was describing husks! She looked around to see that the others had come to similar conclusions as well. _This couldn't be possible_, she tried to rationalize. All of their research on husks had them as mindless creatures, incapable of decision making or carrying out anything besides simple tasks.

They were the mindless infantry for the Geth and the Collectors. For them to be responsible for seizing ships… It was a terrifying thought to confront especially since it led to the even more terrifying notion that the Hegemony was breeding these troops for their own nefarious purposes. And not just breeding, but controlling them.

"_Did these monsters say anything?" asked the voice. _

"_No," she answered quickly. "I…I don't think they were capable of speech."_

"_I see."_

"_There were others," Ellen continued, the fear lingering in her eyes, despite her best attempts to keep her tone normal and her expression neutral. _

"_You mean more of these human monsters?" _

"_No," she shook her head. "There were some that resembled turians." _

Miranda could hear the sharp intake of breath from Garrus at the mention of turians.

"_Turians?" repeated the voice._

"_Yes," answered Ellen, bringing her hands to rest on the table. "They had been perverted just like the humans. They had armor fused into their flesh, including their face, with tubes and wires crisscrossing their body. Their eyes glowed from these various wires that seemed to have plugged directly into their skull." _

"_I-I think they were in charge of the others." She was quick to defend her theory. "They gave off these guttural commands that the others seemed to follow." _

"_By others you mean the other humans?" the voice asked for clarification._

"_And the batarians," she pointed out. _

"_There were batarians with them?" _

_Had the batarians found a way to direct these human and turian husks like the geth and Collectors? _Miranda's silent question was answered by Ellen's next answer.

"_No, they too had been affected."_

"_Affected?" the voiced pressed on, "Affected how, Ellen?"_

"_They had these large sacks of flesh fused onto their backs," she answered, "One of their arms had been transfigured into some sort of weapon, because it was able to fire a stream of deadly blasts." Her brows furrowed together, "Like a gun!" she added, knowing that she needed something logical to compare with what she witnessed to help make sense of it. _

"_They had the four eyes of the batarians," Ellen continued, "but they glowed too, like the turians, and…and they ate their own fallen."_

"_They ate them?" the voice asked, unable to hide his disgust._

"_Yes," a look of revulsion flickered across Ellen's features. "A-And it seemed to make them stronger."_

"_Eating their own dead?" _

"_Yeah," her lips pursed together. "It…It was like armor formed over them after they ate one of their fallen."_

"_Armor?"_

"_Yes," she said, her irritated tone clearly signaling she didn't want to relive the memories she had of watching these things cannibalize themselves. _

_The voice seemed to pick up on it too. "You're doing great, Ellen." There was a pause as if he was writing something down before continuing, "Just a few more questions and you're done."_

"_And then I can see my daughter?" A look of hope brightened Ellen's weary expression._

"_Yes," the voice confirmed._

The image crackled and the last look Miranda got was of a determined Ellen before the feed was cut. A heavy silence had fallen over the communications room like a thick vapor as everyone seemed to be trying to process everything they had just seen and saw.

_Humans, turians, batarians, _Miranda couldn't believe it. It seemed the Hegemony had been broadening their test subjects. While the Geth and Collectors had been satisfied with just humans, the Hegemony had no qualms in inserting this reaper tech into turians and even to their own people. What was worse is that they seemed to be able to control them or at least direct them if they were using these reaper troops to seize freighters.

It was unimaginable. It showed just how far they were willing to go to enact their vengeance against humanity for defeating them during their quasi war over the Skyllian Verge.

_Who are you to judge?_ The silent voice chastised in the back of her mind. You are not exempt to studying on humans. The poignant truth was difficult to ignore. There was no denying that she had experimented on humans during other projects that she had overlooked for Cerberus…

"That was taken less than a week ago, as part of a Cerberus investigation," Drek's voice cut through the silence. If he had any frustrations or anger at the Hegemony using his own people for these Reaper experiments he was hiding them well. "Ellen was the Executive Officer of a mining freighter. She was the only survivor of the attack."

"This has to be stopped," Jacob said, his voice filled with a righteous anger. He may be a Cerberus Operative, but he still was led by the convictions that were instilled in him from when he was a soldier.

"It will be," Drek said, though his expression was stoic, there was an unbridled fury in his voice. "I recently was able to decrypt a location from the files." The image over the table changed to show a single planet. "I believe the Hegemony have a base on this planet dedicated to studying and carrying out their research on the Leviathan of Dis."

_Erszbat, in the Vular System, _Miranda silently read under the planet's image.

"That's in the Kite's Nest," Garrus pointed out. "That's Hegemony space, Shepard."

"I know," he said, "the Normandy's stealth systems should keep us off of the Hegemony's radar." He looked around the room, "But I won't lie to you. Our presence if detected could spark a war. Despite my severed alliances with the Council and the Alliance, the Normandy's reputation as an Alliance frigate could give the Hegemony the excuse they need to declare war against the Alliance."

She couldn't deny the truth in Shepard's warning, but after watching the interview with the lone survivor of that attack. It seemed war with the Hegemony was inevitable. The batarians seemed to have been planning for it. If injecting Reaper tech into humans, turians, and batarians was any indication of their desperate attempt to not only finish the war but to try to eradicate humanity's presence in the Verge altogether.

"Could the Hegemony be working with the Collectors?" Tali asked.

"It's possible," Shepard answered, "But we don't know for sure."

"It would explain their ability to control the husks," Jacob reasoned.

"That's true," Shepard agreed, before adding, "Or that ability could be a direct result of their research on the Leviathan of Dis."

Jacob couldn't hide the look of anger that came to his face at that realization. He was after all a survivor of the geth attack on Eden Prime. He had seen firsthand what those husks were capable of under geth control, and to put that same technology in the hands of a species that loathed humanity with every fiber of their being. It wasn't a comforting thought to stomach…

* * *

><p>The interview left a lot for Miranda to think about as <em>the Normandy<em> made its way to their destination. Stealth systems had been engaged as the Cerberus frigate made its way through hostile Hegemony space. After hearing the survivor's account, the Hegemony had suddenly elevated their threat status near the top. It had become so dangerous that Shepard and them had agreed to make this their top priority and for the moment sidelining their Collector mission.

It made sense that it was this ship that dealt with this issue directly. _The Normandy_ was the best frigate within Cerberus' small, but formidable armada. It was also the best staffed, and equipped with the best tech especially with the various recent upgrades done to its shields, armor, and weapon systems. The squad that Shepard had gathered to go against the Collectors seemed the best fit to take on these new Hegemony created Reaper monsters.

_Yet, he still won't go into that base with full strength, _Mirada noted, looking over the list that Shepard had put together for the mission. Mordin and Shiala were both off the list which was no longer surprising to Miranda, though she did note that after their meeting she saw Shepard go into the med bay where Mordin was and stayed there for quite some time before finally going back to his cabin.

The Justicar too was missing from the list. It was clear proof that Shepard was still wary of her. Since recruiting her, Samara had yet to accompany Shepard on any missions, and the enigmatic Justicar had stayed in self isolation in the Starboard Observations deck. Miranda understood that trust and loyalty were difficult commodities to come by especially onboard a Cerberus vessel, but this wasn't helping their cause in working together for the greater threat-stopping the Collectors.

"Ground crew report to the hangar," EDI's voice crackled over the loudspeakers.

_It's time, _Miranda realized. She wasn't sure what to expect down there, but the mission was simple. Stop the Hegemony from its continued twisted research on the Leviathan of Dis. Humanity was depending on them, even if they didn't know it.

* * *

><p>"Communications have been jammed," Drek reported, "secondary channels included."<p>

"Good," said Shepard, the squad gathering around Drek just inside the facility.

They had met no resistance, the facility seemed deserted. Its heavy turrets above the facility were down and there was no resistance when they entered. The Commander had already given the order to _the Normandy_ to fire upon any shuttle trying to leave the landing pads situated on the other side of the facility.

Their plan was simple. They wanted to be in and out before the facility knew what hit them. The last thing they needed were survivors from the facility reporting back to the Hegemony of an incursion on one of their secret bases.

They may be trying to elude the Hegemony, but there was no stopping them from destroying this facility. What they didn't want was proof of their presence. And if the Hegemony did try to bring up the attack on their facility through diplomatic channels then they would have to disclose what the facility was used for, and Miranda was pretty certain that the Hegemony wasn't going to share their research or true purpose of this facility.

There was no sign of the Leviathan of Dis. It seemed the Hegemony had the defunct Reaper somewhere else. It was unfortunate, meaning that this was probably just one of many facilities that the Hegemony had set up dedicated to studying it.

Nevertheless, it was imperative to permanently shut down this base and hopefully contain some of the research and progress the batarians had made in their research.

"Shepard, we found something," Tali's voice called from deeper into the facility.

Following Shepard's orders the squad fell in behind the Commander as they made their way over towards where Tali's voice was coming from. Waiting for them outside of the room was Tali and Garrus, who had been assigned to further scout the area. Tali was fidgeting, her faceplate looking anywhere but into the open room beside her.

The turian's expression was just as difficult to decipher despite not wearing a faceplate, but his eyes couldn't hide the anger and disgust at what he apparently saw. All he did was give a tight nod to the room that he and Tali were standing outside of.

Miranda was the first inside. The sterile room seemed downright ordinary, a few cabinets along one wall, as well as a large terminal on the other, but it was what was in the middle of the room that ensnared Miranda's attention. Along a row of what she counted to be ten gurneys were the bodies of the Reaper corrupted batarians. It was just as Ellen had described from her interview with Cerberus intelligence.

She cautiously approached the nearest table. Taking in the beastly sight of the corrupted batarian, its skin a sickly darkish taint, its four eyes had an ethereal milky hue to them. The large sickening flesh was fused onto their back that gave them a hunchback resemblance. Its arm had been removed and replaced with what looked like biomechanical cannon.

Picking up the arm, to better examine the technology needed and used to create such a remarkable feat. At the end of the arm where the hand should be was a three pronged claw and at the center of the palm was the muzzle for the arm cannon. Laying the arm down, she quietly counted the numerous reaper tech implants embedded throughout the corrupted batarian.

"How could they do this to their own people?" Tali wondered.

_Her quarian naivety was on full display, _Miranda silently observed. The quarians were a close knit community, who valued their whole, and not the individual. Every loss of life to the Fleet was felt. It left an impact on a species whose population continued to dwindle. To experiment on their own people, the thought wouldn't cross their mind. Each life was too precious for them to sacrifice needlessly.

"We have some audio." Drek called their attention over to the terminal.

"Let's hear it," Shepard said his attention still on the row of dead mutated batarians.

"_These men and women meant nothing to us in their past lives,"_ the voice began.

"_Now their willingness to serve in the unknown will elevate them for all to see. They will contribute to the success of the Hegemony. With them, the glory of old can be captured. We will return to the galactic stage, the planets taken from us we will take back. New wealth will flow and lift the Hegemony above all others."_

_Madness, _she thought quietly. Utter madness, disillusioned but still very dangerous if and when they act out their grudges against humanity. It was clear that they were prepping these corrupted batarians, humans, and turians for war.

"There's a bit more," Drek played the second part.

"_The staff have begun calling them Cannibals,"_ The voice revealed.

"_It is a fitting name for them. We've already caught them gorging themselves on their own fallen brethren. It seems to be some innate programming from the Reaper tech we installed. Yet, the more they devour of the flesh, the stronger they become. We've witnessed these transformations with armor plating materializing to cover their body."_

"Cannibals?" the disgust in Jacob's voice was palpable.

"We need to stop this," Drek growled. He turned away from the terminal, his omni-tool still glowed as his four eyes took in the sight of his own people corrupted and twisted by Reaper experiments that were implemented by the Hegemony.

"We will," Shepard vowed. "We won't allow these monsters to see the light of day."

Drek took solace in that. "Good." He spared the Cannibals one last look before leaving the room.

* * *

><p>"Where is everybody?" Garrus wondered as they made their way down to the second sub level. They had yet to come across any members of staff, no scientists, or soldiers. All they were met with was eerie silence and the dead Reaper experiments they were studying.<p>

"They had a skeleton crew," Drek informed from up ahead. "No more than fifteen staff members with an additional six security officers."

_That was surprising to hear_, Miranda thought. They must have been stretched very thin. Even with her Cerberus projects and the secrecy required their staff and security numbers still reached into the high thirties and low forties. Yet, this Hegemony research team seemed to have only around twenty people.

"Is it to protect the secrets of the Leviathan of Dis?" Shepard guessed.

"Most likely," Drek answered, before the squad stopped in front of the first door they had found on this sublevel.

The motion sensors of the door sensed the squad's presence opening with a soft _swoosh,_ Drek was the first in. "Clear," he called out. "But it isn't pretty."

Miranda doubted that they'd come across any rooms that wouldn't be blood chilling or stomach churning.

_Are you no different? _The cold chastising voice of her Ice Queen persona whispered in the back of her mind. _You tested on people, creepers, and rachni, _the cold voice listed Miranda's past experiments with a hint of pride.

_That was different, _Miranda argued.

"Spirits," Garrus exclaimed, wrenching Miranda out of the inner debate she was having. Responding to Garrus' reaction of whatever he saw in the room, she realized she was the only one in the corridor, the others had gone into the room.

Stepping into the room, she understood Garrus' reaction at once, strapped to a table, was a corrupted turian. It seemed to be dead. Its head lulled to the side, while its body had yet to twitch, but it was still unnerving with those eyes giving off a soft bluish hue.

Again Ellen had done an incredible job with her description of these Reaper corrupted turians. A mixture of synthetic and organic construction, tubes and wires snaked through flesh, tissue, and mechanical armor plating. The tubes ran up to the back of the turian's skull, before an array of wires snaked through what Miranda surmised to be what was left of the turian's brain and whatever reaper tech they had implanted there.

Unlike turians, these constructs appeared to have more than two eyes, above one of its main two eyes, looked to be a third, larger eye and above that were several glowing dots that Miranda wasn't sure were eyes, but what she was sure of was that this Reaper tech had completely transformed the turian's facial anatomy.

She stepped back respectively when Garrus moved closer for a further look. She watched quietly, the subtle twitches of his mandibles as he inspected the corrupted turian. His blue eyes hardening as it took in the several bits of Reaper implants that had been put in. He then raised a cautious hand and brought it to the turian's face, his talon's scratching the surface of the turian's corrupted face before making a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. He tilted the turian's head so that he could look directly into its lifeless eyes.

Garrus met the stare of its dead eyes in absolute silence for a few seconds before releasing his grip on the turian, its head lulled back to the side.

"This is the future of my people." There was a hard edge in his voice. "When the Reapers come this is what they will turn my people in to." Without warning, Garrus slammed his fist into the turian's face, eliciting a soft crunch from the dead turian where his punch had landed.

"Damn them," Garrus growled. He raised his hand and looked ready to deliver another punch to the turian, his small blue eyes blazing in fury, but he didn't. He let out a tired breath, and shook his head in disgust at the turian turned Reaper monster and left the room without another word.

"There's some audio here, Shepard," Drek said broaching the heavy silence that had enveloped the room with Garrus' departure.

Shepard was looking out the door Garrus left from. "Play it, Drek."

"_We always knew it was risky," _the voice began. _"We understood that by taking in other species we could alert our presence and what we were doing in this facility, but in the end we must follow our orders. The Hegemony was clear. They wanted a diverse cast of subjects to test the new tech that we have gathered."_

"There's another entry," Drek informed them before playing it.

"_The risk has paid off better than we ever could have imagined!" _The voice sounded gleeful.

"_The turians have responded incredibly well to the Reaper tech!" _the voice continued. "_We are convinced they could be key in leading our husks and cannibals into battle against the Alliance. The Reaper tech has somehow formed a protective shield over them that must be generated by the tech itself. They have an intelligence that the others lack. They have this ability of adding layers of armor to husks and cannibals during our combat simulations."_

"_Unlike the cannibals and husks, they however require weapons," _the voice continued its assessment casually. _"They have handled the phaestons that we took on the last raid remarkably well. It's as if the Reaper tech has programmed them with combat software. They can evaluate and command the others in the heat of our combat simulations. We are convinced that it will carry over during our live tests."_

"They must be talking about the raids," Miranda surmised.

"_Success!" _ The voice sounded deliriously happy. _"Under close supervision and surveillance we were able to direct a small task force made up of our subjects to successfully carry out a raid on a freighter in the Omega Nebula."_

"_The success has earned the turians in our task force the nickname, marauders," _the voice chuckled_. "They performed admirably and were able to change its tactics during the brief, but bloody firefight onboard the freighter. Sending video and results to Khar'shan with this breakthrough it shouldn't be long until we're ready to test these marauders on Alliance marines."_

"Marauders," all heads turned in Garrus' direction to find the turian standing in the doorway. The loathing in his tone was clear. "What are we waiting for?" He shouldered his assault rifle. "This ends today."

* * *

><p>"I found them, Shepard," Drek called, the squad had just reached sublevel three and there was still no sign or clue of where the staff was. All they had come across were shadows, ghost, and the dead monsters left behind.<p>

"Where are they?" Shepard asked.

"They've bunkered themselves in this room here," Drek uploaded a layout of the facility before using his omni-tool to project a 3D image of it. A small inconspicuous room in the fourth sublevel was now highlighted. "It's there safe room."

"Can we reach it?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," he answered, "And you see this room, here?" A room right next to the safe room was now highlighted. "This is where they keep the mainframe and the servers."

"Then that's where we're going," Shepard decided.

"And what about the staff?" Tali asked. "What happens to them?"

"We kill them," Shepard said simply, receiving nods from Drek and Garrus.

"Attention intruders," a voice echoed in the corridor.

Drek instantly perked at the voice, "Thorvan."

Miranda was familiar with the name from reputation only. She hadn't been present for Drek's mission to Lorek that involved him, but had read the reports. The Hegemony's liaison with the Blue Suns, he was trying to start a war between the Hegemony and the Alliance. It shouldn't have surprised her to discover him in this facility; whose research and experiments were being carried out with that same goal in mind.

"You sure, Drek?" Shepard asked gently.

"Of course," Drek snapped. "I should have known he would be here."

"You picked the wrong facility to raid," Thorvan's voice returned over the loud speakers. "Now prepare to face the full might of the Hegemony!"

"Movement up ahead," Jacob called.

_Where? _She wanted to ask, but she remained silent. Tightening the grip on her pistol, ready to call on her biotics at a moment's notice, she looked out into the dark corridor that stretched in front of them and saw only darkness staring back.

"Drek, Tali deploy combat drones," Shepard instructed calmly.

They did, the two combat drones materialized in front of their tech casters before drifting off into the darkness. The only sound in the corridor apart from the squad members breathing were the whizzing and whistling coming from the combat drones, who had been swallowed up in the shadows ahead.

Then suddenly there was a chorus of menacing almost animalistic like growls followed by gunfire. The drones whistled and glimpses of light could be seen from the darkness from the drones' attacks.

It was then that Miranda saw the silhouettes of the Reaper monsters that the Hegemony was breeding. "Shepard?"

"I see them," he said.

"Orders, sir?" Jacob asked.

"Engage," Shepard answered after a brief pause when one of the drones fizzled out.

The squad opened fire into the corridor, grunts of pain echoed off the walls, as the barrage of bullets peppered the Reaper monsters who had remained shielded by the darkness.

And then a cannibal finally emerged, stumbling out from the shadows. It opened its maw and howled angrily, but before it could take two steps, its head exploded from a well precise headshot. The headless body swayed before collapsing in a heap.

More howls responded and several cannibals came stalking out of the darkness, but their attention wasn't on the squad, but on the dead cannibal. They rushed over to it, fighting over it like predators over a fresh kill, before they began tearing into the flesh with claws and jaws.

It took all of Miranda's discipline to stop herself from throwing up. The sight was repugnant, her stomach lurched in protest. She could taste the bile burning up her throat. To hear about them eating one another was one thing, but seeing them tear and claw, bite and chew as they ripped pieces of fresh flesh off was something completely different. Nothing in her time studying rachni or creepers came close to the horrendous images in front of her that were now permanently ingrained in her mind.

"I think I might be sick," Jacob said, from beside her.

"Don't let up," shouted Garrus. There was a cold fury in the turian's eyes as his assault rifle continued to spit bullets towards the feasting and distracted cannibals.

In less than two minutes, the remaining cannibals were all dead, bodies collapsing onto one another to form a small pile. Fresh blood splashed walls and floor of the corridor while chunks of cannibal flesh were strewn about as was the half eaten corpse.

"Oh Keelah," Tali muttered in a mixture of disgust and disbelief. She took a few steps back wanting to put more distance between her and the fallen cannibals.

Jacob had put his hand out to the wall to brace himself. His eyes stubbornly transfixed on his boots.

"My people," Drek murmured. "Look at what they've done to my people." He made his way over towards the pile of dead cannibals.

"Drek," Shepard called after him, but Drek wasn't listening.

"Damn him!" Drek shouted, kicking one of the corpses. "Fuck them!" He kicked it again.

Miranda couldn't blame him for his anger. She could still remember the first time she had read the Cerberus reports from Eden Prime, about the colonists being impaled onto those pikes-_dragon's teeth. _The images were even worse. The transformation of the colonists into those husks was a brutal process to watch.

It was part of the reason why she had taken over as project director for the research on the creepers and rachni. After seeing the horrors of Eden Prime and the husks, she knew they had to be stopped. That meant exploring new means of fighting them without the additional cost of human lives, so rachni and Thorian creepers options were explored. In the end it didn't work out.

She had just been just as angry as Drek and Garrus when they first saw the cannibals and marauders. Unlike them, the sad truth was she was use to the sight of husks. They had fought their fare share of them on Horizon and onboard the Collector Ship. But for them, this was an entirely new thing for them to process to have to be confronted with the fates that awaited their people if the Reapers were not stopped.

It was a terrible fate for any species. It was one of the Reapers' more potent weapons, remembering the revelation from the Collector ship, the Collectors had once been Protheans. It made Miranda wonder if they failed to defeat the Reapers, would they use husks, cannibals, and marauders in the next cycle for their war?

_That's not going to happen,_ wanting to stem that thought from spreading.

Gunfire broke through her musings, snapping up to see they were being fired upon from the same area where the cannibals had come from, but she couldn't see who was shooting them due to the darkness of the corridor. While the others were near cover, Drek had been out in the open by the cannibals. He tried to scurry to a defensible position, but he didn't get very far before his shields failed and he went down with a shout of pain before collapsing on the ground beside the pile of the cannibals.

"Drek!" Shepard shouted, returning fire on their hidden opponents.

There was no answer. The batarian didn't even stir.

The marauders finally stepped into the light. Just like with the cannibals it was an eerie sight to take in. There were a handful of them. They were growling guttural commands to one another as they advanced.

They moved in great precision, two would lay down cover fire to allow the others to move forward and then they would reverse roles. It was an effective tactic and the marauders worked well in this tandem. Miranda was beginning to think the marauders had directed the cannibals to go first to use as a distraction. It certainly worked.

"Bastards," Garrus growled, seemingly trying to kill every marauder with his assault rifle. His shots were sporadic and his curses loud. There was no doubt their presence was effecting his focus.

"Overload their shields!" Shepard ordered, as he slowly moved from cover to cover towards Drek's position.

Miranda didn't need to be told twice entering the command in her omni-tool, she took some satisfaction in seeing the marauder stumble forward before it was ripped apart by bullets, a second marauder shared the same fate by the combine powers of Garrus and Shepard. The former had removed its shields with an overload while the latter finished it with his assault rifle.

A third soon followed, a nicely aimed shield drain from Tali had left it vulnerable to Jacob's incendiary rounds. The last two fell soon afterward overwhelmed by the squad's combined might and combination of tech and biotic attacks.

Shepard was first to reach the batarian. "He's alive," he called back to them. The Commander's omni-tool was glowing as he applied medi-gel to the wounded Drek.

"Good," Garrus breathed a sigh of relief as he came up beside Shepard.

Jacob and Tali shared a similar reaction at realizing that Drek was going to make it. Even Miranda was pleased to hear the news. She tried to rationalize it by pointing out the asset the batarian had become to them on this mission against the Collectors, but the excuse was hollow.

Drek was conscious soon after the medi gel had been applied, and was quick to his feet, but not before loudly berating himself for getting himself distracted and then shot.

"You able to continue?" Shepard asked, a reasonable amount of concern in his voice.

"Of course I am," Drek answered, brushing off the Commander's concern.

"Alright," Shepard was still looking at Drek. "Let's move out."

* * *

><p>They hadn't come across any more enemies when they reached the final sublevel. This was where they would find the mainframe. This was where they would find the staff responsible for committing these atrocious acts. This was where they would end the threat and destroy this facility.<p>

The squad slipped into a large room that looked to have served as the staff's mess hall if the tables were anything to go by. In the middle of the room was a tall statue of a batarian, posed in a deliberate propaganda attempt to convey awe at the sight. He was holding a gun in one hand and what looked to be a miniature version of the Citadel in the other. At the base of the statue were several distinct pillars that looked to be holding up the batarian.

"Charming," Miranda drawled, inspecting the blatant form of propaganda art funded by the Hegemony.

"What's with the pillars?" Shepard asked.

"Those are the Pillars of Strength," Drek answered, "They're the fundamental foundation of our faith."

"You have sullied the Pillars," Thorvan's voice bellowed in the speakers. "You turned your back on the faith when you swore an allegiance to Cerberus."

Undeterred by the voice of his enemy, Drek turned to the loudspeakers. "Hiding, Thorvan?" he called out, "Too afraid to meet your fate?"

"My fate?" Thorvan sounded amused. "I will be rewarded for the work I did here."

"This is an abomination!" Drek's four eyes were scanning around the room for any sign of his enemy. His eyes stopped at the doors at the other end of the room that would lead to the mainframe and where the staff had barricaded themselves.

"No," Thorvan spat, "This is our salvation!"

The doors suddenly burst open as husks, cannibals, and marauders came pouring out.

"Shit!" Shepard shouted, "Everybody find cover!"

Miranda did, crouching down behind a turned over table. She wasn't alone, Tali was with her too. Drek had taken up position behind the statue that had him between them and Shepard, Garrus, and Jacob's position behind another table.

Locating two encroaching cannibals, Miranda called on her biotics, enveloping the two in a biotic field that had them levitating upwards and with a swift motion of her hand sent them pummeling back towards the ground. They hit the floor with a nasty splat. The deaths sent the nearby cannibals into a frenzy, they went running over towards the fallen corpses. Tali and Miranda were able to pick them off with ease.

Drek was picking off charging husks with his shotgun. Garrus was handling the marauders with his sniper rifle. He seemed to have gotten over the initial shock and anger at seeing the mutated turians. Jacob and Shepard were focusing on the cannibals, with the former using his incendiary ammo to cause them to scatter and turn on one another.

"You can't win!" Thorvan taunted, the doors opening to show the batarian stepping into the room, flanked by a few more husks, cannibals, and marauders. "What we have set in motion can't be stopped!"

_Something was off, _Miranda realized when she looked up from behind the table to see the batarian.

"You have betrayed your people!" Drek shouted, firing off a few rounds from his shotgun towards Thorvan, but the distance of his firing with the strength of Thorvan's shields were able to absorb the bullets without strain.

Tech armor cocooned the deluded batarian, his countenance giving him a haunted, but demented look. She could see it in his eyes, there was a milky glow to them.

_He didn't, _she breathed in disbelief, but looking closer she knew he did. Thorvan wasn't carrying a gun, because his left arm had been turned into one! He had the same arm cannon that the cannibals had. _He had inserted himself with Reaper tech!_

"What have you done?" Drek asked in disbelief, he too seemed to have figured out the lengths Thorvan had gone to fulfill his desire in leading the Hegemony into a new war with the Alliance.

"The Leviathan told us of our victory if we served it," Thorvan's tone had taken a delirious edge to it.

_He was indoctrinated, _Miranda realized. They believed this Reaper, whom they called _the Leviathan_ would actually help them, when in fact it was using them as pawns. It was an ingenious plan from this defunct Reaper they called Leviathan. If war broke out between the Alliance and the Hegemony they would both be left vulnerable and weakened when the Reapers finally emerged from dark space.

"Keelah," Tali said from beside her.

"The Leviathan has given us a chance to make the Hegemony strong once more!" Thorvan raised his other arm directing his remaining cannibals forward to attack them. "Our platoons of reaper troops will win us back the Verge!" Thorvan fired off a powerful shot from his arm cannon towards Drek, who was able to scurry behind the statue in time, the blast smashed into the statue blasting it into pieces.

"And then we will take on the Council Species who refused to give us aide when the cancer known as humanity began to spread in our systems!" Thorvan fired off another shot from his arm cannon, this one missing Drek by inches.

"This is our retribution!" he shouted. "We will have our reckoning!"

Seeing that Drek was vulnerable, Miranda jumped from her cover; calling on her biotics she sent a powerful warp towards Thorvan. It hit him hard, causing him to stagger backwards, giving Drek enough time to reach their position.

"Thanks," he muttered.

Miranda replied with a shaky breath as her biotics dissipated with a soft crack before she gave him a nod.

Thorvan let out a howl of rage as he directed his cannon towards them and opened fire, Miranda ducked behind the table just as the first shots began to hit them. The table groaned and shook at the steady attack from Thorvan's cannon, it was only matter of seconds before it collapsed and crumbled into dust.

"Go for the optics, Chatika!" Tali had summoned her combat drone to relieve them of the relentless attack and judging by Thorvan's growls and curses it was working.

"It's time to end this," Drek said, a cold edge in his voice as he slapped a new clip in his shotgun before standing from cover. He then charged the distracted Thorvan, firing off an array of tech attacks, including incinerate that melted through Thorvan's tech armor.

Thorvan turned away from the combat drone, and raised his cannon to fire, but without the tech armor, he didn't stand a chance as Drek emptied his shotgun clip into the indoctrinated batarian. Spray of blood and bits of flesh clouded Miranda's vision of Thorvan, before seeing him collapse on his back, a piece of his torso and his arm cannon having been blown clean off from Drek's shotgun.

"It's over, Thorvan."

"Over?" Thorvan sneered. "It's only just begun. The Reapers will come and reward the Hegemony for its service. We-"

Drek never gave him a chance to finish. He lowered his shotgun and fired the last bullet in his thermal clip directly into Thorvan's head.

The remaining reaper troops in the room were easily thwarted and when the last reaper troop fell, the squad gathered around Drek who remained where he stood, standing over the dead Thorvan. The remainder of his head was bits of flesh and warm blood that splashed across the floor.

"Finally," Drek holstered his shotgun. "I can't tell you how long I've wanted to kill that bastard."

"He implanted Reaper tech into him," Jacob said, nudging what remained of Thorvan's arm cannon with the toe of his boot.

"He was always a zealot," Drek stated bitterly.

"What about the others?" Tali asked, "Do you think they could be indoctrinated too?"

"Why does it matter?" Drek shrugged, "They're going to be killed regardless." He looked out towards the doors that would lead them to the remaining staff and the facility's mainframe. "If anything we would be doing them a service by putting them out of their misery."

"Nothing excuses them for what they did here," Garrus said sharply, walking over a dead marauder.

"Agreed," Shepard said, "It's time to finish this."

* * *

><p>The staff had been dealt with. They were belligerent and unapologetic at the course of action they had taken. It was unclear if they were indoctrinated or not, but what was clear was that they were responsible for countless crimes from their research and experiments. Shepard ordered their executions for crimes against humanity, the Hierarchy, and the batarian people even if the Hegemony had orchestrated it.<p>

There was no hesitation from the squad to carry out the executions.

When they reached the mainframe, Drek went to work. His attention split on the large terminal that linked the mainframe and servers and to his omni-tool.

The others lingered near the exit. They had all had enough of this place.

After a few minutes of silence, Shepard asked the question that was on all of their minds. "You sure this will work, Drek?"

"Of course I am," He sounded insulted. "Using this mainframe the virus will upload and soon spread to all of the other facilities that are studying the Leviathan of Dis. It seems they were using encrypted and secondary channels to send their reports to the Hegemony and to each other. With this virus uploaded, most of the information they have stored will be corrupted. It'll take them years to recover."

Miranda couldn't help but admire the ingeniousness of Drek's solution. It would definitely serve as a crippling blow to the Hegemony. It also served the important task of helping to take care of the other secret facilities spread out throughout batarian space.

"Good," Garrus said, voicing his approval of the plan.

Drek nodded in agreement before turning to Shepard. "Just say the word, Commander?"

"Do it."

"Virus is uploading."

"Then let's get of here," Shepard ordered. "Our work here is done."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know this side mission was a bit ambitious and out there, but it had been something that I had wanted to write since the early outlines of this story.**

**I was very interested in exploring what the batarians were doing when they studied this Reaper known as the Leviathan of Dis and the possible experiments they would perform in order to help them gain an advantage over the other species in the galaxy most notably the humans. **

**The idea of them creating Reaper variants of turians, humans, and even batarians, I don't think is too farfetched. I also like the tie in it has with Mass Effect 3 as now it gives Shepard and the allies a glimpse of what is to come with the Reapers as well as giving them appropriate time to actually reflect on the horrors the Reapers will commit on the Citadel species if they are not stopped. **

**As always this is AU so liberties will be made.**

**Hopefully you still enjoyed this chapter, **

**-Spectre4hire**


	14. 13: Conflict

**A/N: In terms of what happens in this chapter, remember this is AU and we're dealing with a Renegade Shepard. That is all. **

* * *

><p><strong>We will Rise<strong>

**By Spectre4hire**

**13: Conflict**

_Why am I doing this?_

This wasn't the first time he asked himself this question since reluctantly agreeing to this mission. Shepard studied his reflection in the mirror. He wondered if he looked presentable enough for this psychopathic asari.

"Looking sharp, Shepard," Garrus entered the room.

"Well, I should, I got this from your closet."

Garrus laughed. "Of all the things we've done this is a first." The turian plopped himself down on one of the sofas. "Seducing a sexually crazed asari serial killer, this is prime material for the vids."

"Vids?" Shepard repeated, looking over his shoulder to see Garrus seemed to be enjoying every second of this.

"Think of the sales," Garrus pitched, "We'd have enough credits to buy a small fleet."

"Uh-huh," Shepard rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm just thinking about surviving this."

"Survive first," Garrus agreed, "accumulate sales, second."

It was good to see Garrus in a joking mood again. After their mission on Erszbat, Garrus had become very solemn and aloof. Seeing those marauders had changed him. Realizing what the fate of his people was if they lost against the Reapers had hardened his resolve.

"So why am I here?" Garrus asked, "To give you some tips?"

"Tips?" Shepard tried not to laugh. "How are those working on Liara?"

"I've been waiting for the right moment," Garrus deflected.

Shepard pulled out his leather N7 jacket. It had helped him in the past when he was looking for an easy hook up. Perhaps it would work on this asari. She was supposed to be drawn to strength and danger. The N7 designation was known throughout the galaxy for only being the best of the best humanity had to offer. He slipped his old jacket on, pleased at how it still fit him.

"I want you to suit up, Garrus."

"Am I going as your wingman?" Garrus quipped.

As tempting and amusing as that sounded, Shepard declined, "No, just your armor and sniper rifle."

"But I thought Samara-"

"I don't trust her," Shepard cut his friend off.

"What?" Garrus feigned shock. "You don't trust her because she's using you as bait to lure out a deadly serial killer who's been on the loose for the past few centuries?"

"Exactly," Shepard replied dryly.

"She is cold," Garrus agreed, "But aren't we all?"

"She's a threat," Shepard reminded him. The last thing he wanted was Garrus to forget that.

"You recruited her," Garrus observed.

"A mistake," Shepard mumbled more to himself then to his friend, "One that I might need to correct."

"Shepard?" Garrus straightened up.

"Just get your gear," Shepard turned to see Garrus was looking at him strangely. "I'll inform you of the mission before we touch down on Omega."

"Alright, Shepard," Garrus thankfully decided not to voice any objections he might have. He made his way to the doors.

"Do this discreetly." He didn't want Samara to learn that he planned on bringing some back up on this mission.

"Understood," The doors closed behind him.

Shepard looked back to the mirror, inspecting his appearance.

No, he didn't like this one bit.

* * *

><p>"I don't like this."<p>

"You've said that," Shepard replied, _about ten times,_ he silently added. He realized his glibness wasn't appreciated when he found himself on the receiving end of a very frosty glare.

He didn't like it either. The idea of him being served up as bait unarmed to a predator as dangerous as this Morinth was unsettling for the first human Spectre. It didn't ease his apprehension that he was doing this for the Justicar. A person if he was honest with himself he loathed. He was also sure she reciprocated those feelings of him. The Justicar on several occasions had bluntly admitted that when her oath to him was fulfilled that she may need to kill him.

_You can try, _was Shepard's response. The sooner he was done with the Justicar the better it would be for the Butcher of Torfan. Shepard didn't think he's made that many mistakes since beginning this mission against the Collectors, but one of the mistakes he did make was deciding to recruit Samara. From the beginning, it was all animosity, and wariness between the former Spectre and the Justicar.

In some ways they were alike, sworn to their duty, to adhere to their own codes to carry out what they believed to be justice. They were ruthless in carrying out what was needed to be done. Their difference was in their perspective. She believed herself a protector of _innocents._

Shepard snorted in amusement at the Justicar's belief she was serving the innocents. When they knew full well, she would kill those innocents if they committed some minor fracture to her beloved Justicar code. It was nice to say you were serving the innocents. It helped soothe your own troubles and allowed you to look yourself in the mirror after committing atrocities without losing your sanity, but it was a lie.

It was a lie that Shepard never bothered with. He realized long ago that it wasn't the innocents he was serving when he joined the Alliance, but an idea: To serve, and to protect humanity and to ensure their prosperity and growth. It meant doing ugly and very questionable things, but Shepard never shied away from it.

This was why the Alliance Brass turned a blind eye after the events of Torfan. Shepard had done his duty and protected humanity's interest. An action that was still felt to this day as the Hegemony funded piracy and slaving raids have declined sharply since Torfan.

The warm hands of his lover on his chest brought Shepard back into the present to see the beautiful blue eyes of Miranda Lawson looking at him with genuine concern. He covered her hands with his. "You remember the plan?"

The Justicar had wanted Shepard to go to Afterlife alone. There was no way that he was going to put his life solely in her hands. There was no trust or loyalty between them. He agreed to the stipulation to appease her, but he had his own plans.

After the Justicar told him about the mission parameters, Shepard met briefly with Garrus and Miranda to give them their own orders. They were to discreetly trail him and keep in contact on a secondary channel. So when Morinth took Shepard back to her lair, Garrus and Miranda could positions themselves to intervene if the situation escalated. He wasn't relying on the Justicar, but his friends.

"I do," she nodded tightly.

"Good," he gently squeezed her hands.

"What about Samara?"

"What about her?"

"She asked you to do this alone," Miranda pointed out.

"Is that what you me to do?"

"No," she said tensely, "but if she realizes you went behind her back that could lead to problems."

"It won't be a problem," he dismissed.

"And if it is?" She slipped her hands out of his.

"Then I'll handle it," he assured her.

Miranda nodded, "Alright."

"Commander?" EDI's avatar appeared.

"Yes, EDI?"

"Samara is requesting your presence."

"Tell her I'm on my way,"

"Understood, Commander," EDI replied, "Logging you out."

"This is it."

"Go get Garrus," he instructed, "We'll keep in contact."

"Be careful," she told him.

"I will." Shepard offered her a smile. "With you watching my back, how can I fail?"

"Good point," she kissed him.

"Let's get this done."

* * *

><p>The threat was terminated. The dangerous predator known as Morinth was dead. The crumpled body of the asari serial killer was at Shepard's feet. Cornered and killed in the little home she had made for herself since fleeing Ilium. It had been a long and unpredictable path that led him to where he was now…<p>

He had successfully lured her out of the shadows at Afterlife. It had taken a few simple acts of both strength and tenacity that had piqued her interest enough to emerge out from the darker corners of the Afterlife bar to introduce herself and invite him to her booth concealed in the shadows.

This would be the final test. She was measuring him in trying to figure out if he had that certain spark that she looked for in all her victims. Warriors, merchants, artists, priests, bankers, and any of the other countless victims she had tallied over the centuries shared that one singular pull that made it too tempting for Morinth to ignore, wanting that spark to feed the insatiable fire that burned within her.

Remembering the countless information he had come across in his investigation of Morinth had helped him through this final test with relative ease. He won her over by feigning to share an interest in her hobbies and beliefs. Even after a recent kill, it seemed she wasn't going to let him get away. Impressed with him she invited him back to her lair.

It was an apartment that contained her collection of trophies. The trophies of the partners she seduced and killed over the years. Some of the gifts looked very old, signaling her longevity of the unstoppable hunt that she had been enjoying throughout the centuries. He wondered what trophy of him she would have taken if she had been successful in her seduction.

He could still remember her efforts as she tried to draw the hunt to a close. She carefully sat on him, positioning herself just right on his lap to ensure maximum influence over a certain body part. The draw had been intoxicating. She manipulated him with every touch of her deft fingers, drawing and feeding on his growing desire. Her eyes dark pools of azure promised unimaginable pleasure, as her fingers continued their ministrations in an unrelenting assault on his body and senses. He could still feel the electric tingle that crawled up his spine when her lips teasingly grazed over his.

She had nearly succeeded. It was when the haze was slowly suffocating him did the first cracks of resistance begin to emerge in his subconscious. Images of a dark haired, blue eyed Cerberus Operative helped to weaken the shackles Morinth tried to mentally exert over his mind and body. Memories of his nights with Miranda on the Citadel after the battle and before his death further loosened the asari's grip on him.

The ecstasy he had felt when they were intertwined, while a sheen of sweat and a faint afterglow covered their naked bodies that reminded him of that feeling of completion which could not be duplicated or faked. Morinth's promises were a pale intimation of the real experiences he had already felt and had with Miranda. It was with that realization that finally freed him of the last threads of control Morinth had had over him.

With his renewed strength, he was now firmly in control of his mind and body. Not wanting Morinth to believe that he had successfully fought off her efforts of seduction and had been able to resist her strong alluring power. He feigned to be a captive under her spell. Shepard pretended to be her thrall, mindless and obedient to her every whim.

Believing herself triumphant, she wanted to taste her victory and seize her prize. Her biotics crackled to life, the dark energy enveloping her and casting her in a darkish blue hue.

It was when that Samara made her presence known. Entering the apartment, in a determined stance, the justicar had already called on her own biotics which provided her a light bluish glow.

Realizing at once, the dangerous trap she had triggered. Morinth turned on him, anger clouded her visage, but there was something else in her darkened gaze. It was brief, and fleeting, but Shepard knew that look: amazement upon realizing that she had not successfully enthralled him to her. Judging by the flickering lapse in her otherwise livid countenance it seemed he had been the very first to resist her.

"Mother," Morinth half snarled, and half drawled.

Samara recoiled as if struck by a biotic warp. "Don't call me that!"

"I'll never stop being your daughter," Morinth growled, "No matter how hard you try to pretend."

The two powerful asari circled each other. The power of their biotics crackled, pulling anything within reach up into the air. It was an unintentional side effect to the amount of power that these two asari had at their fingertips: That same power that they were preparing to unleash on one another.

Backing out of the dangerous and biotic charged area, all Shepard could do was watch the awesome display of biotic power. After a brief, but exhausting fight, it was clear they were evenly matched. The mother and daughter had come to an impasse. With this unexpected draw their fates had been unknowingly taken out of their hands and into Shepard's. It had fallen on him to decide who should live and who should die.

Pleading their cases and promising power and service to whomever he chose. Shepard silently mulled over his options. It was between a justicar and an Ardat-Yakshi. Despite their best attempts to distance themselves, they were similar in many ways.

Strong willed, powerful, self confident in both their skills and outlooks on the world. They were talented warriors and hunters who had spent the past few centuries honing their skills into a deadly, biotic force that few could rival. Either would be a force to reckon with against the Collectors on his mission.

It was tempting to turn on Samara for her equally powerful daughter, Morinth. Since recruiting the Justicar, Shepard believed it had been a mistake. This was a chance to fix it. However, Morinth hardly comforted him. She was an apex killer, who thrived on seducing her victims into complete thralls before killing them and in essence becoming stronger with each kill. In some ways she was riskier to recruit then Samara.

With realizing that Morinth was still the more dangerous threat, Shepard made his decision. Reluctantly, he kept his shaky alliance with Samara and helped her to finally kill her daughter; thus ending a hunt that the mother had been on for centuries. A bloody smear of flesh stained the floor of what was left of Morinth's head from Samara's deadly warp.

"It is over," Samara's shoulders slumped. The asari justicar had yet to look in the direction of her fallen daughter. Deflated, after finally killing her, the strength and power she had just radiated with her biotics waned. Looking tired and vulnerable, it seemed the Justicar was now increasingly uncomfortable being in the apartment.

"How tempting was it?"

Shepard turned to see Samara's cold eyes on him. He knew at once what she was referring to. She had noticed the slight delay he took before deciding to side with her. He was unbothered by her suspicious stare; he shrugged his shoulders, "Very."

"I see," Samara kept her expression impassive, but her eyes betrayed her true feelings. "I'm not surprised you'd be drawn to someone like Morinth."

He ignored the slight the Justicar had insinuated about the perceived similar personalities of himself and Morinth. "Actually, she reminded me more of you." He knew his words hit hard when Samara's face darkened and her nostrils flared.

"We're nothing alike."

That got a smile out of Shepard. "You really are." He turned to the crumpled body of Morinth. "The only difference was Morinth embraced the monster she became while you fight it."

"I'm no monster," Samara argued, "I am a Justicar." She raised her chin imperiously, "and just because you are unable to understand my Order's importance and standing amongst the Asari that does not give you the right to sully our reputation and purpose."

Shepard knew this conversation was heading somewhere dangerous. They were nearing a place of no return. The tension between them had been building up since he first recruited her. They had yet to find an outlet to properly voice their dislike and judgment from one another and this was turning out to be it. If they weren't careful in what was said or did, then a confrontation between them was imminent.

Then again Shepard had been expecting a confrontation ever since Samara had declared her oath was the only reason why she hadn't turned on Shepard. An oath that Shepard was supposed to take with blinding trust as if he had no reason to be concerned with her because of this oath. To take her at her word with this oath would be a mistake on Shepard's part. This was a culture and an order that he only had a limited understanding of.

Oath or no oath if this conversation was allowed to continue then it was clear that a deadly conflict was all but certain. A conflict he was sure that only one of them would walk away from.

"I have studied your history, Shepard," Samara said bluntly, "You are responsible for the loss of many innocent lives."

"I do what it takes to get the job done," Shepard replied tersely.

"Is that why you abandoned the lives of nearly ten thousand crewmembers on-board _the Destiny Ascension_?" She challenged, "Or was it because you allowed your emotions to cloud your duty and condemned them because of your hatred for the Council."

"I don't have to defend my actions to you," Shepard growled. He looked over her shoulders to see that Garrus and Miranda had remained in their position at an apartment complex parallel to their position; Allowing them a perfect view of inside Morinth's apartment. He had instructed them about a signal that if he gave it, Garrus would take the shot whether it was Morinth or Samara.

"You think just because you adhere to some code, that you joined some order that gives you the right to judge me?" Shepard spat.

Samara bristled at the criticism, instinctively her biotics flared to life. "Even with my oath, Shepard, I will defend myself." Her body gave off a bluish hue because of the biotics. "My duty is first and foremost to the Order."

_This was it,_ he realized: The place of no return. He knew what needed to be done.

Shepard gave the signal.

There was no time for Samara to react. Her biotics were snuffed in an instant. It was a clean, quick, and probably a painless death. Her body slumped to the ground.

"She's dead," Shepard confirmed.

"Good," Miranda said, her voice crackled in his ear.

"I'll meet you at our rendezvous point."

"See you there," Miranda replied, before the comm. Channel went silent.

He spared the justicar's body one more look. It wasn't what he wanted, but in the end it was what needed to be done. She was a liability to their mission and needed to be dealt with. He wouldn't let her jeopardize his duty, nor did he want her looming over him as a potential threat once the Collectors were dealt with. She and her ideals brought this on herself.

* * *

><p>Shepard was at the rendezvous point. He hoped Garrus and Miranda wouldn't be long. Every time he came to Omega, his dislike for the station only grew. It was a place that thrived on misery. Where it's self proclaimed Queen ruled with an iron fist, caring more about maintaining her power and influence then helping the millions of people who were struggling on the station. She allowed slavers, pirates, and other unsavory characters to thrive as long as they paid her fealty. He knew Omega would never change as long as Aria controlled the station.<p>

So many people had come to Omega believing it a place for fresh starts and second chances. They had been deceived. Not aware of the universal suffering and desolation that plagued this place. Now, they were enslaved to Omega's way of life. Caught up in the torrent of misery, they were forced to be cogs to keep it maintained and operational. Too weak or poor to break away from the hell they unknowingly walked into.

Everywhere he turned he saw despair and poverty. He sighed. Knowing, he was using the gloom of Omega to distract him from what happened in Morinth's apartment. He didn't regret his decision. Losing Samara was a setback for the mission, her biotics were powerful, but he was sure that the squad could overcome her loss and succeed in their fight against the Collectors.

"Shepard."

_Shit, _he knew at once who that voice belonged to; turning around to see his former companion, Kaidan Alenko walking towards him. Dressed in his Spectre armor and carrying a pistol that was directed at Shepard, the few people around were quick to vacate the streets to give the two humans some space.

Shepard instinctively brought his hand to his hip only to realize he wasn't carrying any weapons, because of his recent mission. _Damn, _he silently cursed. He still had his omni-tool, and could possibly use it if needed to disarm Kaidan. Not to mention, Miranda and Garrus would be returning shortly. He just needed to stall Alenko until then.

"How long have you been waiting for me?"

"A while," Kaidan answered, "I had a feeling you would come back here."

"Perceptive of you," Shepard needed to keep Kaidan distracted until Garrus and Miranda arrived.

"I didn't want this, Shepard," Kaidan declared, keeping his pistol leveled on Shepard.

"Yes, you did," Shepard growled, anger bubbled up towards Kaidan and his pathetic attempt at trying to justify what he was doing. "You can lie to yourself, Alenko," he added acidly, "But don't lie to me."

Kaidan shook his head. "You were my friend." His tone was pleading. "When you died it was like losing a limb."

"I've heard this before." Shepard stopped the second human Spectre from going any further down this particular path. "Have you forgotten what's at stake?"

"No, I haven't."

"You have," Shepard was nodding, "You've forgotten the warnings on Virmire and Ilos."

"It's not that simple, Shepard," Kaidan argued.

"Then explain it to me," he gestured to the pistol in Kaidan's hand and then to himself.

"I'm doing my part," his defense was flat.

"You're ignoring the Reaper threat, betraying me!" Shepard growled, "And for what, a pat on the head from Udina and the rest of the Council?" He looked at his former friend in disgust. "You're pathetic."

"I…I," Kaidan's voice wavered.

"I realize now I made a mistake," Shepard pressed the advantage. "On Virmire, I should've saved Ash. She understood loyalty. She wouldn't have turned on me like you." He knew the words stung. They were supposed to.

The words hit their mark. Kaidan reacted as if punched in the gut. Doubt came to his expression, lowering his pistol and looking at it as if he had never seen it before. "You're right," he admitted softly.

"I was scared," Kaidan confessed. "I am scared." He corrected, "I mean a deadly highly advanced race of synthetic starships whose whole purpose is the extermination of all life in relentless cycles that come every fifty thousand years." He holstered his pistol. "I didn't want to believe it."

Shepard couldn't fault Kaidan for being afraid of the Reapers. Their purpose was terrifying. He himself had stayed awake on countless occasions unable to sleep with their looming threat haunting his dreams. It was the stuff of nightmares. However, it never stopped him from doing what needed to be done.

"And then you died," Kaidan continued, "It was just easier to forget about the Reapers." He ducked his head. "It wasn't the right thing to do, I admit it, but without you, the Council and the Alliance swiftly and uncompromisingly silenced anyone who spoke up about the Reaper threat."

"Shepard!" Garrus appeared, looking confused as he turned from Shepard to Kaidan. His hold on his assault rifle tightened when his eyes stayed on the second human Spectre.

"Is there a problem here?" Miranda asked coldly, coming up alongside Garrus. She had her pistol raised and aimed at Kaidan, looking for a reason to use it.

"No," Kaidan wasn't phased by the open hostility he was receiving from Garrus and Miranda. "There isn't a problem." He stepped aside to let Shepard pass.

Surprised, but a little relieved by Kaidan's change, Shepard walked past his former companion and friend.

"Shepard," Kaidan stopped him. "I'm sorry," he paused, looking uncertain, "for everything." He held out his hand.

Shepard looked down at the hand. It was an unexpected olive branch. After Horizon, he had thrown aside his friendship with Kaidan, and dismissed his former brother-in-arms. He never thought the opportunity would present itself for reconciliation between the two friends. This wasn't something to ignore. In hardships it was your friends that kept you going, and Kaidan had been one of them during their time hunting down Saren.

He shook Kaidan's hand. "What are you going to tell the Council?"

"That I just missed you," Kaidan smiled.

That got a chuckle out of Shepard and Garrus. Even Miranda relaxed a bit after his words, lowering her pistol.

"Good luck in your mission, Shepard," Kaidan said, "And when you're ready to fight the Reapers let me know."

"I will," Shepard promised.

"It'll be just like old times," Garrus added, shaking Kaidan's hand too.

"No," Shepard corrected, looking over at Miranda, and remembering the countless new friends and allies they've gathered during this mission against the Collectors. "It'll be better."

* * *

><p>"Everyone, you lost everyone," Miranda stormed into the communication room. She sounded incredulous but looked furious, "And damn near lost the ship too."<p>

"I know, alright," Joker replied, too tired to add a sarcastic remark. "I was here!"

_The Normandy_ was hauntingly quiet ever since the Collectors pulled off a surprise attack on the Cerberus frigate, capturing the entire crew except for Joker. It was a defeat. It was retaliation for Shepard's success on Horizon and on the Collector Ship. They struck hard and fast. The result left Shepard and his squad jilted and wary. Now, here in the communications room some of the squad had gathered, voicing their opinions, assessing the damage and weighing their options in how best to move forward. In the end, it was up to Shepard to decide what their next move was.

"It's not his fault, Miranda," Jacob jumped in to defend the pilot. "None of us caught it."

EDI's avatar suddenly appeared. "Mr. Taylor is correct. The harmful data in the Collector drive was even more sophisticated than the _black box _Reaper viruses I was given."

Shepard turned to his sullen pilot. It was clear the ordeal had taken its toll on Joker. Sitting on the table, head in his hands, eyes distant. "How are you holding up, Joker?"

Joker raised his head. "There are a lot of empty chairs in here."

_Guilt, _Shepard picked up. It was a common reaction to survivors of combat. Questioning why they survived when no one else did. It was a terrible burden, carrying the ghosts of all the people who perished while you try to trudge forward.

"You did the best you could," Garrus consoled, patting Joker on the shoulder. "It's always hard to lose people," his expression darkened the way it always did when he was forced to remember Sidonis' betrayal.

Joker gave Garrus a thankful nod, before lowering his head once more into his hands.

"What about this virus?" Shepard asked, directing the conversation back on point. "We can't risk another attack like this."

"We purged the systems," Joker gestured to the AI's avatar. "The Reaper IFF is online. We can go through the Omega 4 relay whenever you want."

"Don't even get me started about unshackling a damned AI," Miranda crossed her arms.

"What could I do against the Collectors, break my arm at them?" came Joker's sarcastic reply. "EDI cleared the ship. She's alright."

"I assure you I am still bound by protocols in my programming," EDI pointed out in an attempt to try to pacify the hostility at her new found freedom. "Even if I were not, you are my crewmates."

"It's done," Shepard cut in, knowing Miranda wasn't too thrilled with either EDI or Joker's reaction.

It was clear this attack had unnerved her. She was furious, but since she couldn't channel her frustrations on the Collectors she was unfairly directing it on Joker. The pilot wasn't a soldier or an operative trained in combat, he did the best he could with what he had.

"It's because of Joker and EDI we still have the Normandy," Shepard pointed out to Miranda.

Miranda took his words with a sigh, before finally giving him a curt nod, conveying that she understood the need to back off and cool down some.

"So what's our next move, Shepard?" Garrus asked.

"Are we going after the crew?" Jacob followed up.

It was tempting, but they weren't ready yet. _The Normandy_ wasn't fully upgraded. If they went now they'd be letting their emotions get the better of them. He wasn't sure what to expect when they went through the Omega 4 Relay but he wanted his squad and his ship to be ready for anything.

"No," he decided, "The crew understood this was a suicide mission." He understood that he was condemning his crew to be tortured, experimented and likely killed at the hands of the Collectors, but they all understood the dangers of this mission when they signed up.

"Their sacrifices will not be forgotten," he promised them, "We will bring the fight to the Collectors, this I swear." He turned to each and every one of them, "But it will be on our terms when we're a hundred percent ready," he vowed.

"Understood, Commander," Miranda replied crisply.

The others only nodded; Joker was taking his decision the hardest.

"We'll be at our stations, Commander," Jacob saluted before leaving.

"You know where I'll be," Garrus joked in an effort to lighten the mood. He left, but not before tapping Joker on the shoulder.

"I'll be in the cock pit," Joker said sullenly, easing himself off of the table.

"We did everything we could, Jeff," EDI reminded him.

"Thanks, Mom," the pilot replied, before hobbling out of the room.

"EDI, I'll want constant reports," Shepard told the now unshackled AI. Without the crew, it now fell on EDI to keep_ The Normandy _going. He was a bit wary about the AI's new freedom, but after recruiting a geth known as Legion, he was willing to give EDI a little trust.

"Understood, Commander," EDI's avatar disappeared.

"You're making the right decision, Shepard," Miranda said, gently grabbing his hand. "It's not the easy one, buts it the right one."

"We will stop the Collectors." He squeezed her hand, thankful for her support. "And I'm going to make sure we survive it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter serves to explore Shepard's ruthlessness. And his pragmatic focus on stopping the Collectors. His unwavering drive to perform his duty that he won't let anyone stop him from doing: friend or foe, ally or enemy. **

**I actually like Samara, I know it's hard to tell in this chapter, but remember this is in Shepard's perspective and he sees her as a threat and he needs to deal with her in order to continue his duty in trying to stop the Collectors. Hopefully, the way the events unfolded in this chapter came across realistic and possible in terms of this being AU and the ruthless Shepard we're dealing with. **

**Only a few more chapters before this story will come to an end. I just wanted to thank everyone for the incredible support they've given this story over the years and its prequel-"I will Rise." I also want to thank you for your patience in waiting for my very slow updates for this story in the past year.**

**Until next time, **

**-Specte4hire **


	15. 14: Scars

**A/N: Thanks to all those who took the time to review. You are the main source of inspiration and keep my muse focused on finishing this story. Thank you.**

* * *

><p><strong>We will Rise<strong>

**By Spectre4hire**

**14: Scars**

The nightmares were always the same.

It had been more than a week since the Collector Base Mission, but she couldn't forget the horrors she had seen and experienced. It was called a Suicide Mission from the onset, and for good reason. They lost a lot of people to the Collectors. The majority of the crew had been killed before they had even arrived to the Base. Less than a dozen remained including Dr. Chakwas, Engineers Daniels and Donnelly.

The crew wasn't the only one who suffered fatalities. Before going down, the Collectors took down members of their squad-Jack, Mordin, and Thane. All of whom were killed in various parts of the mission.

When she closed her eyes, she could still hear Jack's screams as the biotic was pulled up by the Seeker Swarms. Shepard had silenced her bringing an end to her suffering when he shot her while she was being carried off.

_No one deserved that,_ she thought numbly. Jack had provided them a biotic bubble and had nearly reached the chambers when a husk dropped down on her. The bubble dissipated, Miranda quickly summoned another one, but Jack was out of its reach. She fought off the husk, but the Seeker swarm had gotten her.

Mordin had perished escorting the surviving crewmen back to _the Normandy._ The Collectors had ambushed them, the salarian scientist held them off so that the others could reach the Cerberus frigate in time. His death had not been in vain, they had survived.

Thane fell during the last stand. He with the others held off the Collectors so that Shepard, Miranda, and Garrus could finish the mission. His sacrifice allowed them to end the Collector threat once and for all.

Not wanting to dwell on ghosts, she looked out her viewport. She immediately regretted the decision as the looming Collector Base drew her attention away from the blackness of space and the sea of ancient ruined starships. Since _the Normandy_ survived the Omega 4 Relay due to the IFF, Cerberus had sent a handful of science teams through the Relay.

She had met them briefly, put off by their unbridled enthusiasm and excitement for studying the Collector Base and technology. There was no grief amongst them. They didn't know the names of those who perished to defeat the Collectors. They hadn't earned the right to study this base. They hadn't fought for it. They were just given it. It was wrong.

Miranda wasn't sure she shared their sentiment. She had been surprised and mildly appalled when the Illusive Man had first broached the idea of preserving the Base instead of destroying it. She understood at that point that had been his objective all along. He had never wanted to destroy the base. That was simply a rallying cry to gather allies to their cause. No, it was evident in his tone, that he desired the base with every facet of his being. He lusted after the power and potential that the Base held.

He didn't mind how many humans had perished under the Collector Experiments. He didn't seem to care that a number of _the Normandy's_ crew and squad members who he had recruited had died in this Base. They were all expendable to him. They didn't seem to matter. All that matter was seeing to the preservation of the Collector Base.

Even after she voiced her own doubts, he dismissed them quickly and firmly. It was then that she realized she too was expendable. It was a crushing truth that she was forced to swallow. It cast a new light on her involvement with Cerberus and her own association with them.

She was confronted with the ugly truth that in witnessing the Illusive Man's attempts to keep the Base that she was looking into a mirror. During her studies of the rachni and creepers, they had lost personnel, but she had never minded. She had deemed them expendable in their pursuit of their objectives of breeding an army that would fight for Cerberus.

It made her sick. She had rarely left her room since Shepard had decided to listen to the Illusive Man and save the Base. His decision had stung more then she thought it would. He had vetoed her choice and dismissed her concerns and had wholeheartedly agreed with the Illusive Man. Shepard had believed that the Collector Base was instrumental in stopping the Reapers and only a fool would destroy that opportunity.

She could still remember their heated debate when they returned to _the Normandy_

_You're jeopardizing the soul of humanity!_ _She accused._

_I will do whatever it takes to ensure the survival of humanity, he had responded in a cold firm voice. _

She hadn't spoken to Shepard since their incident. According to EDI, Shepard was spending a lot of his time at the Collector Base. He was engrossed in the technology. He was absorbing the information and research as quickly as the Cerberus teams were uncovering it. They sent him all of their reports, and he spent the majority of his nights reading them. He was also regularly speaking with the Illusive Man. Miranda wasn't privy to their discussions, but if they were like her past briefings with the Head of Cerberus then they were probably exchanging ideas and plans of how best to move forward.

Shepard's behavior was troubling her. She couldn't ignore the lingering fear that gripped her at seeing the changes he was going through. Her only solace in these troubling times had been in her messages to her sister, Oriana. They talked every day. Her sister was a source of levity that Miranda sorely needed.

She was careful in what she said to Oriana. Miranda was aware that her messages were probably being read by Cerberus. She kept them brief, and did her best to deflect the attention away from herself, her mission, and her current relationship with Shepard. Oriana was insistent, but she seemed to understand that Miranda couldn't divulge much and didn't press too often. Something that Miranda was extremely grateful for.

In talking with Oriana, Miranda almost felt normal. She wasn't the pragmatic Cerberus Operative on a mission, but the big sister listening and trying and mostly failing at giving advice to her younger sister. It was a deceiving feeling, since Miranda knew she would never be normal. Nor was it something that she actually wanted to strive for. It was only in her moments with Oriana did she feel that normal could be a good thing because that was what she wanted: A normal relationship with her sister.

At the moment, it seemed her relationship with Oriana was all she had. That and the ghosts of those they lost during the Collector Base assault, as well as the nightmares.

_None of us are coming out of here without scars._

She remembered those words from Shepard's stirring speech. He had been right. She only hoped these scars would heal.

* * *

><p>Miranda found herself with the surviving members of the squad in the Communication room. It had been the first time since the immediate aftermath of the Collector Base mission that everyone had gathered together. She had only seen glimpses of the other squad members following the mission. It was mostly during meals.<p>

She never stayed long for conversation. There wasn't much to discuss. No one wanted to talk about the ordeal of the Collector Base. Even Grunt was subdued. The tank bred krogan who lusted for battle and loved combat didn't seem too inclined to want to revel in the mission.

Her musings were interrupted by the_ swoosh_ of the doors. She looked to see Shepard walk in. The first thing she noticed was that he was in the Cerberus Assault Armor. It validated her suspicions of his growing involvement with them.

_With us,_ she reminded herself. She too was with Cerberus. Yet, realizing Shepard's role in the organization was growing didn't please her as much as she once thought it would. She could still remember her pleading him to join them in the aftermath of the Battle of the Citadel. She had been frustrated when he refused. Ironically, now that he seemed to be joining them, she wasn't delighted, but concerned.

Her doubts with Cerberus were slowly taking form in the aftermath of the Collector Base mission. While Shepard's beliefs in the organization only seemed to grow. Would they pass each other? Her drifting away while he ascended further up. She hadn't given up on Cerberus or Shepard. It was just for the first time since she was with the organization she was having doubts about them.

She used to mock Jacob when he first spoke up about his reservations. She used to argue with Shepard when he pointed out well meaning criticisms. She used to bristle when the Alliance would slander them. Now, here she was with her own doubts and concerns.

"We'll be traveling out of the system tomorrow," Shepard announced suddenly.

_It was about time, _she thought to herself. She was bloody sick of seeing the Collector Base from her viewport. A forceful reminder of the harrowing ordeal they went through and the pain and loss they experienced. At feeling the accusing eyes of the ghosts of those who perished as the source of their death still remained intact. She was tired of the screams that haunted her of the crew being liquefied in the Collector Experiments. At looking out and seeing the hundreds of ruined starships all of whom were destroyed by the Collectors. They might have been destroyed but the legacy of the Collectors was everywhere she looked. She was sick of it.

She wasn't the only one. Looking around she could see everyone else seemed pleased at the news that they were leaving this accursed place. Like her, none of them had wanted to linger in this place. It was filled with death and ghosts.

"Where are we heading?" Garrus asked.

Miranda had discovered that it wasn't just her whose relationship had been strained from Shepard's decision. She had heard Shepard and Garrus arguing about the Commander's choice. Garrus wasn't thrilled at the idea of Cerberus getting their hands on Collector technology and having access to the Base. He too hadn't been comfortable at Shepard's decision of not destroying the Base.

She could still remember the truce she and Garrus had agreed to when he was first recruited. Over the course since then no friendship had formed, but a mutual feeling of respect. And now here they were both agreeing that the Base should have been destroyed not preserved. It was amusing.

"Illium," Shepard answered, resting his hands on the table. "Cerberus gave us a lead for a new mission."

This was the first Miranda had heard of this. It seemed she was out of the loop now. During their suicide mission every dossier went through her computer before Shepard ever received them. Now, it seemed she had been bypassed and Cerberus Intelligence was now working directly with the Commander.

_On the Illusive Man's orders, _she imagined. She wasn't sure if it was because he was trusting Shepard more or her less. Or maybe it was both.

"For those who aren't interested in the mission," Shepard continued, "Illium should be able to connect you to any world you wish to travel to. You will be paid for your services. And Cerberus thanks you for your effort."

_Cerberus thanks you,_ Miranda frowned at his choice of phrase. She couldn't remember him ever saying it like that before. She didn't like it.

"What's the mission?" Again that was Garrus. The turian sounded torn between his loyalty in wanting him to stay with Shepard or his recent grudge telling him to leave.

"Cerberus has provided us with a lead for going after the Shadow Broker," Shepard informed them. "I'm hoping to give it to Liara and together we can put the Broker out of business."

_That got everyone's attention, _she noticed. The reaction was evident from both Garrus and Tali_._ Garrus didn't hide his interest in wanting to work with the information broker and former companion during their chase against Saren. Despite her faceplate, Miranda could read the quarian's body language and she seemed excited at the prospect of reuniting with her friend, Liara.

The others looked more indifferent at the revelation that this fight would be against the Shadow Broker.

"I don't need to hear your answers now," Shepard told them. "You all have until we arrive to Illium to make up your mind." He looked around the room.

"Dismissed," He turned and left.

Their eyes met only for the briefest of seconds, and she didn't like what she saw. She didn't listen to the growing conversation between Garrus and Tali at the idea of seeing and fighting with Liara again like old times. When she left the communication room, the Shadow Broker was the furthest things from her mind.

* * *

><p>Left behind, she couldn't remember the last time she had been left behind on a mission. When Shepard had decided to go to the Dracon Trade Center he had elected to bring Garrus and Tali. Leaving what remained of his squad back on <em>the Normandy<em>. Miranda had argued that it would be smarter for Shepard to take more than just Garrus and Tali, knowing that they would be going up against the Shadow Broker forces. Again, he had discarded her advice.

There weren't many squad members left. Grunt had decided to return to Tuchanka to learn what it meant to be krogan. Legion too had taken the information it had gathered back beyond the Veil. That meant beside her, only Jacob, Drek, and Shiala remained.

Unable to stay in _the Normandy,_ Miranda had gone off to the Illium markets. She watched the crowds of people shopping, talking, and laughing, oblivious to the ominous threat that was looming over them. They are unaware of how close they are to the inevitable invasion of the Reapers. The Collectors had been dealt with, but it was a minor defeat for the Reapers. To them nothing will stop the _cycle._

She felt no pity towards them only anger. They refused to see the truth. Even after Sovereign's invasion and the Collector abductions they wouldn't accept such an external threat that had the potential to wipe out all organic life. Miranda remembered how frustrated she had been with Shepard after the Battle of the Citadel at his inability to see that the Council wasn't going to acknowledge the Reaper threat. He hoped they would see the truth, and that hope had led to his death.

"These people are in for a rude awakening."

She turned to see Drek was standing at the nearby kiosk looking at the omni-tool upgrades. "Yes, they are."

"They're not the only ones," Drek mused bitterly.

Miranda remembered Drek mentioning his attempts at trying to make contact with several of his associates in Khar'shan. "You're not having any luck?"

"No," he said, "They won't listen." He shook his head. "No one wants to listen."

In the aftermath of the geth assault on the Citadel that refusal to see the truth had been universal. No one wanted to believe this Reaper threat. They couldn't fathom an enemy so powerful, so ruthless.

"They'll see soon enough."

"Yeah," Drek looked distant. "My people don't have that luxury."

She understood what he meant. The batarians were isolated. They had no formal alliances with any of the other Council Races. Their history of slavery and piracy didn't help. Neither did their government. If the Reapers did invade the batarian homeworld, she found it doubtful that any of the citadel races would lend any sort of aid.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll bypass the government and military," Drek responded casually. "I'll try to get a message out directly to the people. Show them the facts about the Reapers and the threat they pose."

"Can you do that?" Miranda knew enough about the batarian government to know the tight control they hold over the media and how the government approves of everything that is broadcasted. They apply heavy censorship on the extranet to make sure they remain in control of the news.

"I'll find a way." He looked and sounded determined. "My people's existence is counting on it."

"Let me know if you need anything," she told him.

He seemed surprised by her offer. "I will." He ended up buying an upgrade for his omni-tool. "And thanks."

"We're in this together," she reminded him.

Drek's response was silenced by the simultaneous beeping of their omni-tools alerting them of an incoming message. It was from EDI.

"All personnel report back to the Normandy."

It appeared Shepard and the others had finished their mission.

* * *

><p>A major change had just happened. An impact that would be felt throughout the galaxy, yet the galaxy remained oblivious to this new incredible shift of power. There was a new Shadow Broker. The influential, powerful, notorious being who had its own private army and legion of operatives had been replaced. Shepard's friend, Liara had made the life altering decision of filling the void and becoming the next Shadow Broker when they killed the previous one.<p>

Miranda was surprised by the decision. She had never really seen the asari in such a role. She was skilled in combat and biotics and had served as an influential information broker, but the Shadow Broker would require more than that. It would require a certain ruthlessness that Miranda didn't think Liara possessed. What was important to remember was that they had not only taken down a powerful enemy but had gained an equally powerful ally in their fight with the Reapers. Using the Broker's network and agents to prepare for the Reapers would be a major boost.

Now, Miranda Lawson found herself walking through the impressively built Shadow Broker ship responding to a surprising request from Liara, the new Shadow Broker wanted to meet with her.

Stepping out of the office was Garrus Vakarian. Moving in a way that Miranda could only describe as a strut, noticing a pleased look on the turian's face, his mandibles twitching in what she believed to resemble a smile. Miranda remembered Shepard mentioning Garrus' interest in Liara, judging by Garrus' current attitude it seemed the feeling had been mutual.

Garrus finally noticed her. He dialed back his strut, coughing awkwardly in an attempt to remove his very pleased smile with himself. "Miranda," he greeted her cordially.

"Garrus," she returned the greeting. Making sure no amusement squeaked into her tone.

"Liara is waiting for you," Garrus fumbled for a line that would steer away from his reason for leaving Liara's office in his current mood.

"Thank you," it took some effort to stop herself from smiling. "I'll see you on the ship."

Garrus nodded, "of course." He seemed grateful that their brief, but awkward conversation was over.

Miranda didn't look back when she passed Garrus. She instead went right to the door, knocking when she arrived. Liara's voice was muffled, but her words were clear. Beckoning her in, Miranda opened the door to see a very large room. Two of the three walls were covered with monitors. There was however, two richly plush couches. As well as an elegant glass table. Miranda noticed the two wineglasses that were on the table as well as the two different wine bottles-one for turians and one for asari.

"Thank you for coming," Liara was standing by one of the walls covered in monitors. Her fingers typing away at the console while her eyes drifted towards the various screens with ease.

"How's it coming?"

"It's overwhelming," Liara admitted, "all the information he possessed." She looked over her shoulder at Miranda. "He knew what the Collectors were."

"Protheans?" Miranda guessed.

Liara confirmed it with a nod. "Yes, it seems he was trying to find away to survive what was coming."

"By allying with the Reapers?" Miranda didn't think much of the Broker's plan. If he knew about them and the Cycles before then he should have figured out that the Reapers didn't treat their allies well. The Broker was fooling himself if he thought he'd have a better fate then either Saren or the Collectors. Those former allies of the Reapers had been indoctrinated; stripped of their free will and implanted with so much Reaper Tech they no longer resembled their former selves.

"Desperation makes us see things differently," Liara pointed out.

"Perhaps," Miranda had seen desperate people do foolish things. She didn't think it was good enough to excuse the behavior and the actions that the Broker had done. Including working with the Collectors and trying to give them Shepard's body.

"Is this why you wanted to see me?"

"In part," Liara typed one final message before turning away from the wall of screens. She gestured to the two couches. Miranda followed, Liara looked a bit sheepish when she grabbed the turian wine bottle, quickly putting it out of sight.

"It's not just the Protheans that the Broker was well informed on." Liara continued when she realized Miranda was going to stay quiet. "Going through the Broker's database I discovered he had cameras and bugs installed onto the new Normandy."

That was expected. After exposing Wilson to be working for the Broker, Miranda had a feeling that the Broker had other agents that had infiltrated the Lazarus Cell. It was disappointing to know the Broker and his agents had succeeded in bugging the Normandy, but it wasn't a surprise.

"He was gathering information on Shepard, the crew, and the squad," Liara explained.

It was then that Miranda noticed Liara's expression softened, and the asari looked somewhat apprehensive.

"He knew about you and Shepard," Liara revealed. She looked uncomfortable for broaching the subject.

Miranda didn't respond right away. Fury directed at the Broker slowly began to simmer in her gut. It was further fueled by the thoughts of him spying on the personal and intimate moments she shared with Shepard. They went to such great lengths to keep their relationship private to protect themselves, but all this time it was an allusion. Who knew what the Broker had seen or worse recorded when it came to her and Shepard?

She hadn't been surprised at the thought of the Broker's agents getting a few bugs installed into _the Normandy._ However, she had carefully canvassed her quarters and Shepards to remove all of the bugs that Cerberus planted to guarantee privacy. To think that she had missed some that had directly streamed into the Broker's network was unnerving and frustrating.

"I am sorry," Liara's genuine apology broke through Miranda's internal musings.

"Why?" Miranda found herself asking.

"Pardon?" Liara's painted brows furrowed together.

"Why tell me?" She appreciated it, but the cold, calculating Cerberus Operative persona could only admonish Liara's decision. The information about Miranda and Shepard was a powerful secret that if properly wielded could yield promising results. Instead Liara just told it to Miranda with no strings attached. It was befuddling.

"It was the right thing to do," Liara said without hesitation. "I care for Shepard," she then amended, "he is my friend." She then turned to Miranda looking serious when she added. "You might not know it, but you've been good for him."

"They may not know about your relationship with Shepard," Liara continued, "but Dr. Chakwas, Joker, Tali, Garrus have only said positive things about you. They respect you."

That caught Miranda off guard. She hadn't been expecting acceptance. She was use to adulation, but was taken aback at the source of this praise. She understood the importance of it. These were coming from Shepard's closest friends, and to think that they respected her brought a certain relief that Miranda hadn't been expecting.

"I'm worried about him," Liara confessed. "His growing association with Cerberus has led to some troubling changes."

"I agree." Miranda admitted, she swallowed the smile that threatened to slip past her serious demeanor when she saw Liara's surprised expression. It was clear that the new Shadow Broker wasn't expecting it. "His fascination with the Collector base has worried me."

"He carries a tremendous burden," Liara sighed. As if trying to find an excuse to justify her friend's shifting change in character. "I'm afraid of the path he'll choose to take when it comes to destroy the Reapers."

"He's become more distant," Miranda found herself admitting. "He spends all of his time in the Base studying the technology and meeting with Cerberus scientists and the Illusive Man."

She surprised herself with her own candor. The surprise was soon replaced with relief that she was finally able to voice her concerns and fears of Shepard. Liara knowing of their relationship finally gave Miranda a forum and she wasn't going to squander it.

So they talked for what felt like hours comparing notes and observations, discussing options and scenarios, and trying to figure out solutions and get answers. When it was over, Miranda found herself refreshed. It felt as if a great burden had been lifted off her shoulders. She no longer had to silently carry it alone. She had help.

"Garrus is concerned too." Liara observed when their impromptu meeting drew to a close.

Miranda took a generous sip of her wine. She couldn't remember when Liara offered the wine during their hours long meeting, but she had been most welcoming of it. "I suppose I could talk to him from time to time." Miranda tentatively put forward. She still wasn't sure of the turian. She respected his skill and his loyalty to Shepard, but there was still a small part of her that was wary to trust him.

"I think you both could use it," Liara seemed to sense her apprehension and took it with amusement. "He'll deny it with a terrible joke, but he cares for Shepard a great deal." She pushed herself out of her seat, still holding her glass of wine. "Garrus frets over him like an old maid." That got a giggle out of Liara and even Miranda couldn't help but smile at that potential image.

"I can talk to him," Miranda decided. If Shepard and Liara trusted Garrus, then she should have no problem trusting him. It wasn't because of anything Garrus did. It was on Miranda through her upbringing and her training with Cerberus, it had made her cautious and more difficult to trust others.

Liara looked pleased at the decision. "Excellent." She moved towards her terminal. "I have something for you."

"Something for me?" Miranda wasn't expecting that.

"Yes," Liara retrieved a data chip that she unplugged from the console. "This was all the Intel that the Broker had on you." She held it out to her. "This is the only copy. There are no backups."

Miranda was speechless. She looked down at the small data chip in Liara's hand. She tentatively took it, immensely grateful for the gesture. Miranda understood what this information could do to her in the wrong hands. "Thank you."

Liara smiled, "Friends look out for one another."

_Friends,_ it was strange for Miranda, but she couldn't think of a reason to rebut it. It was funny to think of Liara as a friend now. A lot has changed since their first meeting all those years ago. Then, their meeting was overshadowed by the body of Shepard. His death had impacted them both tremendously, and the two shared the need in wanting to bring the Commander back to life.

Now, here they were together again under another common cause. To save Shepard once more, but this time to make sure he didn't lose himself in his endeavor to stop the Reapers. It was no easy task, but then again when it came to Miranda and Liara nothing they accomplished seemed easy.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: No matter what choices you make in Mass Effect 2 Miranda leaves Cerberus by the time 3 starts. So I was curious in wanting to explore Miranda's thoughts and her change of attitude towards Cerberus.**

**I also thought it would be interesting to see Miranda react to Shepard getting close to Cerberus and the problem she finds herself having with it. As well as seeing the tension that Shepard's decision on keeping the Base could have between them.**

**This is fanfiction , so liberties are made. **

**Sad to have characters die. For those wondering how I decided who would die, I based it on my first play through. That was a sad play through since I didn't really understand everything I needed to do. I took liberties in how they die, tending for the dramatic and therefore not relying on the game mechanics. **

**Until next time,**

**-Spectre4hire**


	16. 15: Indomitable

**A/N: Look what I found: My Mass Effect Muse. It's always in the last place you'd think to look. **

* * *

><p><strong>We will Rise<strong>

**By Spectre4hire**

**Chapter 15: Indomitable**

Three hundred thousand lives perished in a near blink. Unknowing victims in a great war that their government and most of the galaxy refused to believe was being waged. A war that for the moment was being fought in the shadows, but that would soon change. If the enemy had its way then at this very moment it would've revealed itself to the galaxy in an unprecedented invasion that would've swept through the galaxy with devastating precision and ruthless execution amongst the populace.

Shepard prevented that for the moment. He halted the Reapers attempts to access the important Alpha Relay, a decision that meant destroying the relay and condemning those who live in the system to death. To Shepard, it was a decision he made without hesitation. He saved those people from being harvested. To be at the mercy of the Reapers, to be tortured and twisted, inserted with Reaper tech to become mindless monsters or to be indoctrinated and an unwilling tool to further advance the Reapers efforts.

The loss of three hundred thousand lives never seemed so inconsequential. There was no heavy burden for him. There was no grief or doubt that he had to wrestle with because of the decision he made. He returned to _the Normandy_ with a clear conscious. He knew he had done the right thing. He understood in the war to come that if they lost only three hundred thousand lives in one battle with the Reapers that would be considered a victory. And that's what today was: A victory against the Reapers.

He was no fool to expect the rest of the galaxy to share his perspective. Shepard was certain the galaxy by and large would view this as either a terrorist attack carried out by a rogue Spectre working for a human centric organization or an act of war by humanity on the Hegemony. The proof he had on the Reapers involvement was destroyed with the rest of the system.

The person he had intended to save, Dr. Amanda Kenson had perished along with her indoctrinated coworkers whose ignorance to the Reapers incredible power proved to be their downfall. It was another telling example of how whenever anyone got close to uncovering any sort of weakness about the Reapers they would be enthralled and forced into the role of pawn. The closer you got to them, the more certain you were to fall.

"_Your time will come. Your species will fall. Prepare yourself for the Arrival."_

Harbinger's taunt stayed with him. The looming glowing silhouette of the Reaper known as Harbinger confronting Shepard before the asteroid would crash into the Alpha Relay. Offering little insight and simply spewing more of its typical rhetoric of the inevitable fate of doom and death that awaited him and the rest of the galaxy once the Reapers arrived.

He had silenced Sovereign. He would silence this one too. When his shuttle finally touched down inside _the Normandy_, he made a beeline straight to the communications room. He was expecting it empty. He was wrong. Inside waiting for him were his squad mates who still remained with him.

"What have you done?" Miranda demanded before the doors behind Shepard had even closed.

He squared his shoulders back. He was expecting this. He knew they'd be upset that he undertook this mission discreetly and alone. And after what had happened and the choices he had to make, he knew there would be even more questions.

"I struck a blow against the Reapers," he answered simply. He noticed the annoyance flicker over her perfect features. The open distrust and antagonism in the room especially between himself and Miranda highlighted their very strained relationship. If there was one thing he regretted since saving the Collector Base it was allowing their relationship to disintegrate.

He was so focused on the Reapers and trying to find a way to stop them. He knew he was letting things slip away. Their initial argument about the Base's fate wasn't any different than any of their other disagreements which they had in the past. Those times they would meet again, speak civilly share each other's viewpoints, and if they couldn't come to an agreement, they would at least come to an understanding of respect.

That didn't happen this time. He allowed it to fester. He was so distracted that he had made no effort or attempt at reaching out to her since that initial argument. Instead, bitterness remained and any and all conversations since then have been sour and brief. All because he had been too busy to speak with her again, to follow up on their argument that had taken place weeks ago.

_Had it been that long? _He thought numbly.

"By destroying a relay?" Miranda didn't bother to hide her doubt.

"I would destroy a lot more if it meant an end to the Reapers," Shepard replied without hesitation. His words stirred predictable reactions from his friends.

"Shepard…" Garrus' mandibles twitched. "What you're doing…"

"Is necessary!" Shepard shouted, the anger was pulsating in his gut. "We're not fighting a war!" He could see his outburst had silenced them so he seized it. "We're staving off fucking genocide!"

He looked at each of them. Garrus' uneasiness, Jacob's confliction, Miranda's uncertainty, Tali's fear, Shiala's pain, but when his eyes turned to Drek, he could read nothing from the impassive batarian.

The pause allowed him to soothe the burning anger that was radiating inside of him. His frustration faded, allowing him to realize just how sore and weary he was from the recent mission. He had been gone for days, held prisoner, before fighting to escape just to slip out with only seconds to spare.

This was the last thing he needed or wanted. Instead, he decided it was about time to address the bigger issue that his companions were still mulling over.

"I know you're upset with my decision to save the Base," he knew he had hit the bulls eye by seeing how they reacted to this change of subject. "And allowing Cerberus to use it," his eyes fell on Garrus and then Tali knowing he had pinpointed a large portion of their dissent and disagreement. He then moved to Miranda. "But what choice do we have?" He all but pleaded to them. He wanted them to understand, but he couldn't force them to see.

"If we have any chance of beating the Reapers, certain lines must be crossed," he continued, "We have to get our hands dirty!" He placed his hands on the table. "All those who died from the Collector experiments deserve justice." He hadn't forgotten about them. His words stirred Jacob and Garrus, knowing he struck a chord with them. "But Harbinger and the Reapers were responsible, they directed the Collectors."

"And right now we don't have the luxury of turning down helpful tools that can be used to seek and exploit any weaknesses that these bastards may have," Shepard finished. "In case you hadn't forgotten. They've never lost. No species has been able to stop this onslaught."

That painful truth got their attention, but was it enough to stop the dissent once and for all. He wasn't sure, but he knew what might.

It wasn't something he talked about. Not even with Miranda. Yet, it was with him every day. It was a chilling reminder of the fate that awaited humanity if he wasn't strong enough, if he stumbled with this mission, if he made a mistake at the wrong time. It had been with him since Eden Prime where it all began.

"I see what happens if we fail every day," he admitted softly. "The destruction of the Protheans haunts my dreams every night." He let loose a breath. "That's what drives me forward." He tapped the side of his head with his finger. "The Beacon imprinted the Protheans' ruin in my mind. I can feel their fear. I can sense their hopelessness." He looked up at them. "Their cries of help were met with cold silence."

"That's the burden I carry," his eyes found Miranda. The warmth that filled hers was enough for him to finish. "And it will stay with me for the rest of my days." He bowed his head.

"Shepard," Miranda's soft voice got him to look up again. Though her tone remained neutral, he knew her better. He could understand what wasn't being said. "I didn't know."

"Yeah," Garrus added awkwardly.

He offered them a stiff nod. "It wasn't your burden to bear."

"Yes, it is," Tali argued stubbornly. "We're with you, Shepard." She reminded him, "Until the end."

"Until the end," Garrus echoed with a nod.

"The end," Jacob added solemnly.

"To the end," Miranda agreed.

* * *

><p>"What happened down there?"<p>

"I sent you the report," Shepard responded. He and Admiral Hackett were in Shepard's cabin. The Admiral had just arrived from Arcturus after a short delay.

"A relay destroyed," Hackett held the data-pad that contained Shepard's report. "A batarian system destroyed." He shook his head. "This wasn't the mission I sent you on."

"Kenson was indoctrinated," Shepard pointed out. "She was trying to be the herald for the Reapers arrival." He noticed the pained look that briefly flickered over the Admiral's face at this revelation. IT caused Shepard to wonder what sort of friendship the Admiral had with the Doctor.

"Maybe," Hackett was noncommittal. "That won't sate the batarian's lust for revenge."

"Fuck the Hegemony," Shepard growled. The so called government funded all sorts of unsavory operations against the Alliance and humanity colonies over the years to feed their broken caste system. They outfitted pirates and centered on targeting outskirt colonies and had no qualms in enslaving children and innocent.

"This could lead to a war with them," Hackett scratched the graying stubble along his jaw line. "A war we can't afford if the Reapers are so close."

"They'd be fools to declare a war on us," Shepard responded, "They're just posturing. It is all just empty threats." He wasn't going to be fooled by their antics. Humanity was on the Council, as much as he disliked the other Council species. They were still linked through Council membership which meant they were expected to support humanity if it became under attack by a threat which a declaration of war from the Hegemony would be.

"The Alliance brass isn't as sure as you seem to be."

"What are you saying?" Shepard had a suspicion at what Hackett was hinting at.

"You had your reasons, Shepard," Hackett clasped his hands behind his back, "But it will fall on deaf ears when it is scrutinized by the loss of more than three hundred thousand batarians." He paced in front of the fish tank. "That evidence cannot be argued." He sighed, "The Reaper's threat can be."

"This is bullshit!" Shepard was not the soldier he once had been. His ability to hold his tongue had waned over the years, and his autonomy as a Spectre and now as an ally of Cerberus had all but made him unabashed in speaking his mind no matter the form.

Hackett frowned. Not receptive to Shepard's outburst. "If it was up to me, Shepard, I'd give you a medal and bury this blasted mission." He waved the data-pad, "But this isn't up to me."

"At some point you'll have to go to Earth and face the music."

"No," Shepard said firmly. He understood what Hackett meant. The Alliance wanted him to come back so that he could be the scapegoat, placating the Hegemony. He knew what would happen when he returned. He'd be locked up. He was already considered an outlaw by the Council, and if he went back to Earth, he was sure he'd remain in an Alliance prison for a very long time.

"Shepard," Hackett began.

"We're at war," Shepard cut him off. "I'm doing everything I can to stop the Reapers and you want me to go back to Earth where they'll lock me up and throw away the key!" He clenched his fists. "It's not going to happen."

"The Alliance-"

"Fuck the Alliance," Shepard was surprised by how good that felt to say. He was sick and tired of how the Alliance had used him over the years. He was not going to have any more of it.

"I see," Hackett said, disappointment filled his tone, "I know this isn't easy or ideal, Shepard, and that your history with the Alliance has been checkered long before Cerberus got involved, but think carefully about this."

"I won't do it," he argued. "I'm needed on the frontlines to stop the Reapers. Not in some Alliance cell."

"I happen to agree with you," Hackett admitted, "I can't stop this from happening, but I will make them work for it."

"Thank you," Shepard meant it. The Admiral was one of the few men he respected and trusted in the galaxy. He understood how much Hackett and Anderson had sacrificed for him, in defending his actions and believing his story about the Reapers. "But this is something I can't do."

A tired smile came to the Admiral's lips. "You're still as stubborn as ever, Shepard." He moved to get a closer look at Shepard's medals which were displayed in a glass case. "I still remember you as that skeptical, weary recruit from the ICT program. I knew then you'd do great things. I knew you'd make a good leader someday." He looked over his shoulder to Shepard, "Because even then I saw that you'd do what it took to get the job done."

"You fight the Reapers, Shepard. You delay them as long as possible," Hackett placed the data pad containing Shepard's report on his desk. "All I ask is that you keep me informed."

"I can do that, sir," Shepard agreed.

"Good," Hackett nodded his head. "And when the Alliance summons you," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "Well that will make for one interesting day."

"I won't forget this, sir."

"You shouldn't," Hackett stated dryly.

Shepard smiled at that. He always appreciated Hackett's dry humor. He offered his hand and Hackett shook it.

"It was good seeing you, Shepard." He turned to go, "but just remember why you're fighting."

"I will, sir."

* * *

><p>Since the Collector base mission, Shepard had found himself spending more time in the Starboard Observation Deck on <em>the Normandy.<em> Now, that its previous occupant had been dealt with on Omega before the initiation of the suicide mission. He found a strange sort of comfort looking out at the sea of stars stretched out as far as the eye could see before him. It was not just comfort that stirred within him, but awe at the great vast void that _the Normandy_ moved through.

In the aftermath of the Alpha Relay destruction he couldn't help but wonder about Harbinger and its horde of Reapers. What schemes were they hatching? How would they respond? Where would they move to next? The questions pummeled him one after another as he was forced to mull them over without any satisfying response. He knew nothing and that was terrifying to him.

It was happenstance that brought him to the Alpha Relay. It was Hackett's need of discrepancy and his personal trust in Shepard that had the Alliance Admiral seek him out to find Dr. Kenson. For all Shepard knew, he could turn on the holo-net to discover that the Apien Crest had gone silent. Only to realize too late that the Reapers had arrived as they poured through relays to descend upon the rest of the galaxy.

What chance did they have then?

He had received some promising news from the Illusive Man. Leads he intended to follow; he had already sent them to Liara. The Illusive Man seemed adamant that there was more information to be uncovered in the Prothean ruins on Mars. He informed Shepard that only so little had been learned from the Prothean relics discovered there. That the Alliance had barely invested the time and effort needed to dig deeper into the Archives and to try to tap into more wisdom and secrets, that the Protheans were sure to have kept.

The other lead was just as interesting, if not vague. It seemed, Cerberus agent had stumbled across hidden Prothean ruins beneath one of the Eden Prime settlements. It was too early to decide what had been discovered and on what scale, but the Illusive Man was optimistic from the reports he had gotten. He had sent an undercover force to continue to discreetly excavate the ruins.

Even with the helpful leads that Cerberus had provided Shepard, it didn't change what this relationship was between him and them. It was one of convenience. Who was he to turn away potentially powerful allies when a far danger threat lurked over them? He was no Cerberus stooge, he was his own man. He hadn't broken free from the yoke of the Alliance and then the Citadel's grasp to allow himself shackled to Cerberus.

No, never again would he allow others to dictate to him what his orders were. He wouldn't stomach bureaucrats trying to lecture him on how a mission should have been accomplished or have them throw him under the bus to get a plus four approval rating. He was done with that life.

There were times when he wondered if he did the right thing all those years ago when Saren attacked the Citadel. He could've gathered more political clout in the aftermath of the Battle. He was considered a savior of the galaxy, the Alliance and the reeling Citadel species could do nothing to stop his popularity from soaring. He could've seized a spot on the Council. Transformed himself into the military arm of a new Human led council, to help advise the galaxy and prepare for the Reaper threat, but he didn't. He allowed himself the role of errand boy and ended up getting killed by Collectors.

So much could have been different.

The _swoosh _of the doors brought him out of his reverie, using the reflection of the window to see the visitor was Drek. The batarian had yet to utter two words to Shepard since the destruction of the Alpha Relay that led to the death of three hundred thousand batarians.

He turned to greet the former Blue Suns legionnaire who had slowly become Shepard's friend and trusted confidant over the months that led up to the suicide mission. "Have you heard any news?" Despite his current obsession with the Collector Base, Shepard was aware of his friend's efforts in trying to raise awareness in Khar'shan of the Reaper's imminent threat.

"It's hard to gain trust when the man who's suppose to be our ally just killed three hundred thousand of our own people," Drek observed gruffly.

Shepard inwardly chastised himself for his lack of tact. "I don't know what to say."

To his surprise, Drek chuckled. "Not the best defense I've heard, Shepard."

"That's not-" Shepard wanted a second crack at forming some sort of defense or explanation, but Drek held up his hand, and Shepard decided it may be smarter to hear him out first.

Drek seemed impressed that he had been successful in silencing Shepard. Yet, in the new found silence, he did nothing to broach it. Instead, he moved past Shepard, his attention on the wide windows that provided a glimpse of the darkness of space with the bright shimmer of stars speckled in.

"I still see them," Drek observed, "those monsters that the Hegemony created using the Leviathan reaper tech." He clenched his jaw. "That was the fate waiting my people in the Bahak system had the Reapers been able to access the Relay." He kept his eyes on the window. "What the Hegemony sees as an act of war, I know better." He raised his hand to show that his omni-tool was glowing. "I knew it was an act of mercy."

An image was projected via his omni-tool, a sickening sight that Shepard remembered all too well. It was a still of one of the twisted _cannibals _that they had found at the Hegemony's secret funded base that had been dedicated to studying the Leviathan of Dis.

"It's still hard to stomach," Drek gave a lazy flick on the screen and the image disappeared.

"It is," Shepard agreed, remembering his first reaction to the _husks_ and the _dragon's teeth_ that were used to turn those colonists back on Eden Prime into them. It was burned into his mind. The sick, twisted feelings of fear and nausea tangled into a knotty mess of emotions of trying to rationalize what he was in fact seeing.

"The fact it was batarians doesn't bother me," Drek admitted, finally turning to face Shepard for the first time, "Because I know you," he let loose an amused snort, "And I know that if that colony was human you would've made the same decision without hesitation."

"I would have," he affirmed.

"Exactly," Drek nodded, moving to sit on one of the leather sofas. "The Hegemony has made a fucking mess of everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Their control of both security and the media has tightened to a degree that I can't remember seeing before," Drek placed his arms on his lap allowing him to rest his head in his hands. "I can no longer complain from a far."

And suddenly Shepard understand what it was Drek was referring to. "Ahh," he said, moving to take a seat beside his batarian friend, but leaving some space between them.

"That's the best you can say?" Drek cracked. "I'm only the best infiltrator you got."

Shepard smiled. "My apologies, but your revelation has left me without my senses or purpose moving forward."

Drek laughed, "better." He turned in his seat to face Shepard, "I didn't expect I'd miss leaving this ship as much as I do, or the people," Drek paused, "including you and the turian."

"I understand," Shepard agreed with him. It had been a strange path the two had taken, but it had proved most rewarding, and it wasn't something he would change.

"But I need to do this," the resolve in Drek's voice was palpable. "I have to return to Khar'shan and do all I can to muster any and all support and awareness." He pushed himself out of his seat.

"Your people don't realize how lucky they are to have you," Shepard had mirrored Drek, returning to his feet.

"I'm not going to blush, Shepard."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

Drek looked him over for a silent second, before tilting his head to the left and then offering his hand.

He understood the gesture that Drek was making. It was a sign of respect. "I'm going to miss you." He took the hand and shook it firmly. "I hope that when the time comes I'll have you fight by my side once again."

"I wouldn't miss it, Shepard." Drek offered him a nod before making his way to the door.

Shepard's eyes followed, and when the doors opened with a _swoosh,_ it hadn't been because it had detected Drek's departing presence, but because of the arriving presence of Miranda. The two eyed one another before offering a respectful nod, Drek left the room without another glance and when Miranda stepped into the room her eyes were on him.

"I'm sorry," he found himself saying.

Earning a smile from Miranda, "I know." She moved towards him. "I am as well."

His arms were at his sides feeling heavy and awkward as he wasn't sure what to do with them. He wanted to reach out and hold her, and kiss her like they use to, but their relationship had frayed in the past few weeks, and now he wasn't sure what an appropriate response was.

She made the decision for him. She placed her arms around him, her face finding its way the crook of his neck.

Automatically, his arms moved to return her vulnerable, but still firm embrace. The smell of vanilla filled his nose, as he kissed the top of her head. Nothing was said in the tender embrace they shared, in those peaceful seconds that followed, words weren't needed for either to express their regret in allowing their relationship to crumble as it did.

"Everything is going to change," he informed her when their embrace ended.

"Not everything," she emphasized her meaning by squeezing his hand.

He smiled, "No, not everything." He agreed. They'd be together throughout it all. He would't make that mistake a second time.

In the silence that followed, Shepard found peace with just him and Miranda.

This was why he was fighting.

And it was why he was going to win.

**The End**

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><p><strong>AN: I finally got here. I'll admit it took me a lot longer then I initially thought and planned, but I'm still pleased to be able to finish this story.**

**I like to think this story was somewhat decent especially since I initially had no plans to write any sort of sequel to "I will Rise." **

**Yet, it did give me the option to explore a more pragmatic (renegade) Shepard which I found a great deal of fun writing. As well as dropping some Garrus/Liara which was also fun to write. **

**In terms of an ending, I'm never good at those, or satisfied with what I have, but in the end, I decided to just do a simple, quiet scene between him and Miranda. I hope I didn't botch it too badly. **

**I want to thank everyone who gave me and this story support over the years. Your positive feedback from 'I will Rise,' was what finally convinced me to try to write a sequel. I only hope it lived up to its predecessor, and your expectations. **

**My last request for this story: Since this is the last chapter, please review.**

**Thank you,**

**-Spectre4hire**


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